A Deadly Thaw (20 page)

Francesca couldn’t sit still. She continually crossed and uncrossed her legs. Shuffled from one side of the chair to the other. Fiddled with her bra straps and the buttons on her cardigan. She lived in the High Oaks area of Bampton, and her well-cut clothes, blonde highlighted hair and well-applied make-up shouted money and time to spend on looking this good. Her husband was having an affair with a work colleague. She’d found text messages on a phone that he hadn’t even tried that hard to hide. ‘He keeps reassuring me it’s all over. He wanted me to find out. The spark had gone. He wanted to tell me that he still loved me, and the affair was a way of doing that.’

You’ve got to be joking
, thought Kat.
Demonstrate your love for someone by having sex with a colleague?
‘Do you think he did that? Proved that he loved you.’

Francesca shifted in her seat again. ‘No.’

Well, no. That was the whole point of affairs. If anything, you’re only proving to yourself what you think you don’t have. Your youth, your sexuality, your outward attractiveness to the opposite sex.

But when push came to shove, Francesca’s husband hadn’t wanted to end their marriage and didn’t want to leave the marital home.

‘Francesca.’ Kat had been wanting to broach the subject for some time, but, after eight sessions, the last few of which had been going nowhere, it was time to move things on. ‘What do you want? You’ve told me a lot about how you’ve been feeling. You’re very open about that. But I don’t get any sense of what you want from life.’

Kat watched as her client sat still for a moment. She looked shocked, as if she was being asked a question that she’d never thought about before, but she answered without hesitation. ‘I want to be by myself.’

After Francesca left, Kat made herself a cup of mint tea and sat on a stool in her tiny kitchen. So Francesca wanted to be alone. What was incredible was how many people were afraid of the solitude that they so craved. Francesca, shackled to a man she didn’t love, and who she probably despised, put up with the relationship not because of money, although that was probably a factor. No, she was afraid of being alone. The thing she most wanted.

Solitude had never been a problem for Kat. In fact, she was desperate for it at times. She and Lena shared that need and it sounded like Daniel had learnt to be by himself, despite his yearning for Lena. She had left him in the house, making himself some coffee.

And what about Mark? Kat once read an article in her counselling journal about therapists who had affairs with their clients. It made grim reading. In the likelihood of you falling for one of your patients, you needed to stop the sessions as soon as was appropriate. That went for former patients too. Two years was the absolute minimum before you were even supposed to meet an ex-client outside the therapy room. Of course, Kat knew of exceptions. Like teachers who fell in love with their students and prison officers who had affairs with their charges, there were therapists who found themselves desiring their clients. But she had never considered the possibility that she might, one day, be in this position. She was unlikely to be prosecuted, but her professional life would be in tatters.

A noise outside in the courtyard interrupted her reverie. There was a click and a muffled sound. She shot out of the kitchen, and her heart nearly failed her. In the narrow hall stood the boy, with a carving knife in his hand.

Palmer had his head in his hands when Connie got back to the station.
I’m not having this,
she thought. She went up to him and leant over him. ‘Look, all we did was have sex last night. Let’s not make a big deal of it, right?’

He looked up and grinned. ‘Right.’

She looked at him in surprise. ‘I thought you were having an existentialist crisis. You’re sat there with your head in your hands like it’s the end of the world.’

He put his hand on her arm. ‘We can’t do it again, Con. Not just because I’m married but because of our jobs here. There’s no way Sadler would put up with an affair in his team and I’ve no intention of screwing up my career.’

‘Me neither.’

‘That’s all right then.’ He gave her arm a squeeze and let it go. ‘I was actually just concentrating. I can’t prove that Andrew Fisher and Philip Staley knew each other but I’d say there was a pretty good chance. They both played rugby for a start. I managed to speak to a massive rugby fan, and he’s given me the fixtures for over twenty years ago. Andrew Fisher played for Bampton’s team. Philip Staley for Macclesfield Blues. If you look at this list, where I’ve highlighted is when the two teams played each other.’

Connie picked up the sheet with the highlights. He saw her frowning. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘The thing is, this is good. I mean, they may have known each other twenty years ago. Fair enough. However, Philip Staley died in 2004 when he was thirty-six. And the thing is, how many men do you know who still play rugby in their mid-thirties?’

Palmer winced. ‘I wouldn’t fancy playing it now.’

‘Exactly. It’s a young man’s game. Most start playing it at school. We know Andrew Fisher did. He and Staley were the same age.’

‘But didn’t go to the same school.’

‘No, but I bet the schools also took part in tournaments.’ She thought back to the photos of Andrew Fisher on his mother’s wall and her discomfiture at the fact that Sadler knew him as a teenager.

‘I think we need to concentrate on the teenage Andrew Fisher. The answer lies there.’

‘This a hunch, Con?’

‘Listen,’ she hissed. ‘Will you bloody well stop calling me Con. Before, it was cheek; now, it sounds intimate. Do you want the whole team to know we had sex last night?’

He looked up at her, laughter in his eyes, and shook his head.

‘Then stop calling me Con.’

‘Ms Childs?’

She snorted with laughter. ‘Then they’ll definitely know. Just keep with Connie.’ She could smell his aftershave and the heat of his skin. After he’d left her flat, she’d taken a shower straight away, waiting for the shame to arrive. It hadn’t. Standing next to him, she wanted to reach out and touch him. It wouldn’t be him leaving the team at this rate. It’d be her.

He seemed not to notice her presence. He was looking at the fixtures sheet again. ‘Concentrate on the teenage Fisher. Maybe. I’ll have a look. But it wasn’t the teenage Fisher who wound up dead, was it?’

Connie took a step backwards. ‘No, but some secrets cast a long shadow. I think you, me and the boss are going to be taking a trip back to the past again.’

‘I’m not going to use it.’

Kat couldn’t take her eyes off the knife. It looked like a meat cleaver, the shiny metal gleaming in the light coming through the window. Its thick blade could do untold damage. Damage to her. She could also smell fear coming off the boy. Teenage sweat and a stale bready unwashed stink that made her want to heave.

‘I need to speak to you.’ He motioned with the knife, and they went together through to the counselling room, she leading the way and aware of the knife in his hand. Once there, the boy hesitated. The chairs were placed so that they faced each other. A small table in between contained only a box of tissues and a cactus plant. ‘Sit down.’

Kat took refuge in her usual chair. The boy picked up the other chair and put it down next to hers. He sat in it and, clearly uncomfortable, stood up and kicked it out of the way. Instead he dragged the little table and sat on it facing her. Kat kept her eyes on the knife, conscious of the menace emanating from it. ‘I’ve a message from Lena.’

‘What? Is she okay?’

‘Oh, she’s all right.’ The boy’s hood fell slightly away from his eyes, and she could see dark-brown irises set in red-rimmed eyes. He looked like he’d been crying.

‘How do you know her? Lena?’

‘She’s my friend.’ The boy seemed proud.

Friend? Kat felt that familiar pang of jealousy. How could Lena be friends with this boy?

‘You get my things?’

‘You mean the items you’ve been leaving for me? Of course I got them. You made sure of that. Did Lena give them to you?’

‘Maybe.’ The boy refused to look her in the eye. ‘They’re clues. Haven’t you guessed yet?’

‘Guessed what?’

‘Guessed what it’s all about.’

Anger coursed through Kat. ‘What what’s all about?’

But he didn’t seem to know. Or wasn’t going to tell her. He lifted up the knife and brandished it in triumph. ‘I’ve cleaned it, just as Granddad taught me to.’

Kat’s stomach contracted in fear. She kept her eyes on the blade. ‘Your granddad?’

‘Yeah. His dad had shown him how to clean a bayonet. You use vinegar. Not the stuff you put on your chips, but the clear stuff. You wipe the blade like this.’ The boy pulled out a piece of material from his pocket and started to rub it up and down the blade with a leery look on his face. The sexual innuendo was unmistakable.

Kat suddenly caught sight of a purple pattern on the cloth. ‘What’s that?’

The boy’s expression changed from mock lust to fear. ‘Lena gave it to me.’

‘Lena? It’s got nothing to do with her.’ Kat reached forward and grabbed the cloth from the boy’s hand. He stood in consternation, holding the knife uncertainly in front of him.

Kat made a bolt for the front door, pulling it open. ‘You tell my sister that this scarf has nothing to do with her. I’m sick of the sight of you and your presents. Tell her to come and see me herself or just leave me alone. Do you hear? Now get of out of my room.’

He left without looking at her. Kat inspected the scarf. This she did recognise. It was hers. From a long time ago. The eighties? Definitely not that old but maybe from twenty or so years ago. It had been a favourite then. By that time the fracture between her and Lena had been complete. There was nothing this scarf symbolised that could be described as a shared experience.

Sadler watched through the window as Palmer and Connie walked across the lawn outside the station. Palmer took off his dark-blue jacket and laid it carefully on the grass before sitting gingerly on it. Connie plopped herself down next to him, making herself comfortable, before lying down with her hands behind her head. Palmer ignored her, untwisted a paper bag, took out what looked like a sandwich and started to eat it. Sadler felt the urge to join them.

The phone on his desk rang, an unwelcome distraction. ‘DI Sadler? I’ve got Julia Miles from Shallowford House in reception. She’s looking for DC Childs or DS Palmer but I’m not getting any response from either of their phones.’

Sadler looked back out through the window. The two were laughing together, and Palmer looked like he was trying to stuff part of his sandwich into Connie’s mouth. ‘I’ll come down and get her.’

Julia Miles looked composed when he came towards her. She also looked familiar. Perhaps their paths had crossed at some point in the past. It wouldn’t have been surprising. He saw a gleam of recognition in her eyes too.

‘You don’t remember me?’

In these instances, the truth was usually preferable to obfuscation. ‘You look familiar. It’s just I’m struggling . . .’

She smiled and looked away. ‘You nearly arrested me once. When they were pulling down the old swimming baths to make way for the housing development. Do you remember? About ten years ago? I chained myself to a drainpipe. The constable was going to arrest me for trespass along with the others there. You stopped your car and intervened.’

Sadler did remember. The building had been beautiful. Made from Derbyshire stone, it had been a solid square building with a small pool. Too small by modern standards and with tiles that were chipped and stained with age. And no heritage listing, which meant that developers had been free to do whatever with it when they acquired the land. Four executive homes with postage-stamp-sized gardens had been squeezed onto the tiny plot.

Sadler had sympathised with the protesters, but they were breaking the law. He’d stopped the car because he spotted a red-faced young constable getting increasingly out of his depth. ‘Any other near-brushes with the law?’

She smiled at him. ‘I rely on you lot these days. In my job, I mean. It was a one-off, that protest. I swam in that pool as a child.’

‘Didn’t we all? You wanted to see one of my detectives? They’re out at the moment.’ He didn’t mention the fact that they were sprawled on the lawn the other side of the building having lunch.

Julia Miles’ face creased into a frown. ‘I’m worried. About Mary Alton. Steph’s daughter. DC Childs mentioned that she’d interviewed Mary. Was she okay then?’

Sadler rubbed his face. ‘I don’t think there was anything significant. What’s the problem?’

Julia continued to frown, looking at the floor. ‘It’s probably nothing. It’s just I’ve been around to Mary’s flat a couple of times to check that she’s okay, and I’m not getting any answer.’

‘You think there might be a problem? Is she a vulnerable teenager?’

‘I’d say so, although she’s technically off the radar of Social Services now she’s nineteen. Given her age, I guess it’s probably none of your business either.’

‘If you think something might have happened to her, then she definitely should be on my radar.’ He took a step back. ‘Why don’t you take a seat? This shouldn’t take long.’

It would have been quicker to go out the front door and walk around to the back of the station. But Sadler, keen to maintain an air of professionalism, both for himself and for his colleagues, instead traced the route Palmer and Connie must have taken after their visit to the canteen. He passed through the warren-like corridors of the station and finally made it to the lawned area.

They were still on the grass. Connie looked like she was having a snooze. Palmer was checking his phone. He looked up, shocked, as Sadler approached. ‘We were just having a spot of late lunch or afternoon tea, given the time.’

Connie opened her eyes and looked unabashed, but she was the first to stand up. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘I’ve got Julia Miles in reception. She’s concerned about Mary Alton. When you interviewed Mary after her mother’s death, how did the girl take it?’

Connie frowned. ‘She was upset from what I can remember. She looked like she’d been crying. But she was lucid. Told me that her mother had ups and downs. She seemed keen to defend Stephanie but not suspiciously so. Is there a problem?’

‘Ms Miles can’t get in touch with Mary. She’s concerned about her.’

‘She seemed okay when I spoke to her. Ask the family-liaison officer who brought her here. She sat in on the interview.’

‘What happened afterwards?’

‘Afterwards? Nothing happened after. She was given a lift home, that’s all. Given that we’re treating her mother’s death as suicide, there wasn’t much else I could do. We’re not Social Services.’ The sentence was a step too far. Even Connie seemed to have recognised it, and a flush of colour spread across her cheeks.

‘Fine. However, there’s a possibility that Mary Alton may also now be missing. I don’t like what’s happening to the women of Bampton. Can one of you try to track her down?’

He noticed Palmer looking at his watch. ‘Perhaps I can leave that to you, Damian.’

Back at his desk, Sadler’s mobile rang. He was about to switch it off. Nearing the end of the day, he had a number of admin tasks that wouldn’t wait until the morning. Looking at the name on the screen, he changed his mind and pressed the answer button. ‘Is everything all right?’ Camilla never rang him during the day. She treated his job as sacrosanct. In fact, she rarely called him on his mobile, preferring late-night calls when she knew he would be relaxing at home.

‘Everything’s fine with me. It’s just there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.’

‘To do with the kids?’

‘The kids?’ She sounded surprised. ‘No, of course not the children. They’re also fine. It’s to do with . . . Look, I don’t want to do this over the phone. Can you meet me?’

‘Will later do? Or is it urgent?’

Camilla sighed down the line. ‘Not urgent but it’s to do with work. Should I come in and see you?’

‘For God’s sake, Cam. There’s no need to do that. I’m coming around now. You’ve got me worried stiff. Stay where you are.’

‘Can we meet at Hale’s End?’

‘Hale’s End?’

There was a brief silence at the other end of the phone. ‘I think it might help.’

He disconnected the call and looked out through his window into the incident room. Palmer and Connie were back in the office, still laughing together. Something about their stance put a niggle of doubt in his mind. He frowned, but grabbed his coat and walked across to them. ‘I’ll be back in an hour or so. Call me on my mobile if anything comes up.’

The evening was approaching, that time between daylight finishing and the encroaching night. The gloaming, his mother used to call it. An old-fashioned word, seldom used any more. But for Sadler it encapsulated the mystery of the early evening. There was a nip in the air, and he felt a reluctance to visit Hale’s End. Perhaps because of its past history. It had always been a place of the dead. A place of sorrow. In the twenty-first century it had remained so, although he had seen precious little distress in response to the death of Andrew Fisher.

At the entrance to the path to Hale’s End he saw his sister’s white Nissan parked haphazardly on the grass verge. If he’d had the keys he would have at least straightened it. As it was, its back jutted awkwardly out into the road. Camilla was nowhere to be seen. She clearly didn’t share his apprehensions about approaching Hale’s End at dusk.

He walked quickly towards the old building, and, as he turned the corner, he saw a blurry shape that coalesced into two tall figures. His sister he recognised straight away. She had his leanness and, although she had put on some weight after having the children, she was still slender. The other he thought at first was Kat Gray. She had the same shape as his sister, but it was only as he got closer that he saw, with a start, it was the Manchester solicitor, Anna, who his sister was so keen for him to know.

Sadler wasn’t so crass as to think that this was a contrivance to set him up on a date. One glance at Camilla’s face would have put paid to that anyhow. He finally made it to them and acknowledged Anna with a nod.

‘Thanks for coming, Francis. You remember Anna.’

‘Of course.’

Anna was trying to smile at him but not succeeding. She did manage to look him in the eye. ‘Maybe I should explain why we’re here.’

‘Are you sure you’re all right? We don’t have to stay here – I know this place well enough’ said Sadler.

‘So do I, unfortunately,’ said Anna. ‘But it’s better that we’re here. This place is important for what I want to tell you.’

Some of the warmth from earlier in the day had held. It didn’t entirely dispel the gloom of the place, but it was trying.

‘Anna came around today for lunch. We got to talking about Hale’s End. I hope I didn’t betray any confidences. It was general stuff about what we talked about when we were last together. About you coming here to lark about and about my ex bringing me here for a bit of teenage fumbling.’

‘I remember.’

‘Well, Anna has her own story about this place. I think you should hear it.’

He looked across to Anna, who was pale but determined. ‘Okay but I’ll say it again. It doesn’t have to be here.’

Anna shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter. Let’s call it expelling old ghosts. Although I hardly know where to start.’

Sadler was on firmer territory. ‘Let’s move into the clearing there. We can look at the building while you tell me what you want to say.’

They moved across, slightly out of the trees.

‘I’m a bit younger than you both. This place has become overgrown, but how you describe it, that you used to be able to get a car down the track, that’s how I remember it too. I can remember when you used to be able to come down here in a car.’

Sadler said nothing. Just nodded.

‘I had a boyfriend. When I was in my mid-teens. It was a big secret really. He was older than me. Seventeen. And he had a car. Well, it wasn’t his. He used to borrow his mother’s, and we used to go driving. I was too young to get into a pub. Although I was tall, I looked my age. So the local pubs were out. Instead, Adam would go to an off-licence and buy a bottle of cider or some beer, and we’d park up here and have a drink.’

‘Where did your parents think you were?’

‘I had a friend, Paula, who also had a boyfriend. We basically used to cover for each other. I’d say I was going out with her, and vice versa. Of course, my parents weren’t daft. They could smell the alcohol when I got home. They just thought I was drinking with Paula.’

‘And how old exactly were you, Anna?’

‘Fifteen.’

‘Go on.’

‘Well, one day things got a bit out of hand. Further than I wanted. You know . . . It was stupid. But when I suddenly said that was it, I didn’t want to go any further, he just didn’t listen to me. Carried on.’ Camilla moved a step forward towards her friend. ‘The thing was, it wasn’t really
that
bad. I mean, I didn’t want to have sex with him, but it seemed easier just to, well, let him do it. That’s what happened.’

‘Here?’

‘Yes. Wherever the track ended. There was a small turning circle, wasn’t there? Sometimes we had to go elsewhere because there was a car already here, but often we just had the place to ourselves.’

‘So you associate this place with where your assault took place.’

Anna flinched. ‘Yes, it was an assault, wasn’t it? I can see now. It took me a long time to accept that. But my parents, they knew it for what it was straight away.’

‘You told your parents?’

‘Well, my mum, initially. I was an emotional wreck. I needed support.’

‘And did she help?’

‘She was absolutely fantastic. I went to the doctor, and she told my mum that we should go to the police. She seemed really angry. She was the old-school type. The mother of that woman who went to prison for her husband’s murder.’

‘Lena Gray?’

‘That’s her. Her mother was a fantastic doctor. She was angry when I told her what had happened. She told me to go to the police.’

‘And did you?’

‘Yes.’

‘And?’

‘It was the biggest mistake of my life.’