Death of a Friend (21 page)

Den had been at home for only half an hour when Lilah arrived. She came in through the unlocked front door and threw her jacket on the sofa, just as she always did. Then she kissed him and routinely asked him if he’d had a good day. He laid a hand on either side of her face to prolong the kiss. Her cropped hair felt softly energetic under his fingers, its thick waviness one of her most attractive features. It was nothing like her mother’s poker-straight pageboy style, beginning to go grey around the ears. Lilah, he felt sure, was never going to look anything like her mother.

He tried to look into her eyes as she pulled away from him, but couldn’t quite find the courage. His insides were spasming with anxiety.
He couldn’t bear to lose her now, not when she had become a central part of his future. If she dropped out of his life, there’d be no light, no laughter; he’d have to revise so many of his plans. And when she asked, ‘And how’s the murder inquiry coming along?’ he felt every element in his life meshing together, making perfect sense. Because Den Cooper was a police detective with his sights set on a promotion ladder that led to the dizziest of heights, as well as Lilah Beardon’s future husband.
Perhaps
, he thought, with a stab of insight,
I’d feel just as anxious if faced with the loss of that plan as well.

‘Untidily,’ he replied to her question. ‘Bits and pieces all over the place and nothing to link them together. To cap it all, young Clem Nesbitt went missing this afternoon. We all thought he’d been abducted.’

‘My God! Did you find him?’

He nodded. ‘He wasn’t gone for long, as it turned out. Just wanted to go off on his own for a bit. He’s upset about something. Wouldn’t say what.’

‘Of course he’s upset! His mother just died.’

Den shook his head. ‘No, it’s more recent than that. Something happened today. He went running off with no coat, no idea where he was going. He’d got half a mile along the road, that’s all. But it wasn’t planned. You know how little
kids often think about running away and hoard apples and pocket money and stuff?’

She smiled. ‘Not really. But I’ll take your word for it.’

‘Anyway, it doesn’t look to have been that sort of running away. I think he was scared. He didn’t seem to want to go home although he settled down when Martha took over. Christ, was she glad to see him! She’d walked halfway to Cornwall, looking for him in the wrong direction.’

‘Exciting,’ Lilah commented.

That wasn’t how Den would have described it. ‘All part of a day’s work,’ he replied ruefully.

‘And what about the rest of the investigation?’

He tried to concentrate, pushing out his lips and rubbing his chin with a long hand. ‘I’m still looking for evidence of how people felt about Charlie before he – or Nina – died. And there’s just no sign of anything strong enough to warrant murdering him. I can’t uncover any real passion or genuine anger towards him.’

She tossed her head impatiently. ‘Then somebody must be a very good actor. It’s a bit optimistic to expect your murderer to start gnashing his teeth and spitting at the mention of Charlie’s name.’

He sighed helplessly; she clearly wasn’t in a very understanding mood. His stomach, now full
of marshmallow or cotton wool, was making breathing difficult, and he seized his courage. ‘You said we should have a talk,’ he managed. ‘Hadn’t we better get on with it?’

Her whole manner changed as he watched her. She drooped and went pale; her bouncy hair seemed to go limp. She bit her lower lip. ‘I did say that, didn’t I? Have you been thinking about it all day?’

‘Just a bit.’ He made the irony unmistakable.

‘It was when you suggested moving into Redstone.’

‘I worked that much out. So what’s the problem?’

‘It’s hard to explain rationally. It wasn’t really about you …’

‘Why do people always say that?’ he interrupted. ‘I
want
it to be about me. And I don’t care how irrational it is. I just want to understand.’

‘
Just
probably isn’t the right word. When you said what you did, I had this picture of a great iron gate, like a portcullis, coming down between me and the world. I felt I’d never escape from the farm, if you were there as well. I only go out now to see you. We’d be like prisoners in an open prison, never going more than a couple of miles from home. I’ve lived at Redstone nearly all my life. I’m stuck with it, and I do love it most of
the time. But I panic when I think it’s the only place I’m ever going to see. All my friends have gone to uni, and then to America or Israel or into high-flying London jobs. Most of them have graduated by now and here I am, doing the same as I’ve always done. Left behind. You’re my ticket at least as far as Okehampton. It isn’t much, but it’s a start.’ She came towards him and he held out his arms. Her head fitted comfortably under his chin and she rubbed her face on his shirt. She didn’t seem to be crying, but tears were obviously not far off.

‘I do see what you mean,’ he mumbled into the top of her head. ‘And I can’t tell you how relieved I am. I was scared you were going to dump me.’

She tilted her face up at him. ‘
What?
’

‘You seemed so cross with me.’ He pulled a little-boy face, pushing out his lower lip in an endearing pout.

‘You are
so
insecure!’ she said. ‘I can’t think why. You seemed pretty well in control at school. What went wrong?’

‘Is this a cue for me to talk about my unhappy childhood? Because there’s quite a long story to be told, if so. We ought to have something to drink if we’re getting into all that.’

‘Go on, then. Find a bottle of wine and let me know the worst.’

Three minutes later, they were cuddled together
on the sofa and Den was trying to recapture the salient points of his early years. The experience with Clem Nesbitt made it easier, because somehow Den had identified with the lost and confused little boy.

‘I really should have told you all this before now, but I hardly ever think about it. I never did, because I can’t actually remember it. The fact is, I spent nearly a year in a foster home when I was very small. My mother had a big operation on her back when I was a year old, and it went wrong somehow. I was packed off until she recovered. And naturally enough I was a real handful when she got me back again. I probably had no idea who she was by then. I used to cry all night, apparently, and my dad got sick of the whole thing and buggered off when I was five. It was a pretty rough time for all of us.’

‘But I’ve met your dad. Did he come back?’

‘He’s my stepdad.’

‘How could you not tell me before now?’ She seemed genuinely horrified at what must look like a deception.

‘It sounds daft, but it never occurred to me. He’s been around for so long, I just forgot to start with. And then it all seemed a bit complicated to explain.’

She pulled away from him. ‘
Complicated?
But we’re supposed to be getting
married.
Is there
anything else you haven’t got round to telling me? For God’s sake, Den.’ Implications flew at her. ‘Will your real dad want to come to the wedding? Where is he? Have you got brothers and sisters I don’t know about?’

‘He died three years ago. No known siblings. He didn’t marry again.’ He picked at the palm of one hand, waiting for her to subside.

‘Oh dear. I’m not being very grown up about this, am I? And I can’t pretend my own family is altogether normal.’ She relaxed against his chest again. ‘Sorry. I’m glad you’ve told me. Considering all that, you’ve turned out pretty well, on the whole.’

He tightened an arm around her and she snuggled closer. ‘So it’s all right, is it?’

She took a swig of wine, reaching awkwardly for the glass. ‘Apart from my silly restlessness, yes. We haven’t resolved that problem, though, have we? I’m too young to be a farmer, that’s the trouble. I love Redstone, but I live for the hours when I can get away from it. My mother drives me mad and Roddy’s so unconcerned with the farm that he seems more like a ghost than a brother. The
real
ghosts are bad enough …’

‘Are you telling me you’ve been seeing ghosts?’

She laughed. ‘They’re not the visible sort, but they’re there, just the same. Daddy and Sam are still there, somehow. They’re always on at me,
telling me what I should be doing, nagging about ditches and machinery and how I should keep it all in good condition. It’s a hard life.’

‘It wouldn’t be so hard if you let me share it with you,’ he said unwisely. As soon as the words were out, he closed his eyes tightly, braced for another burst of irrational anxieties.

Before it could materialise, the phone rang. They both exhaled, tension slipping away. ‘Saved by the bell,’ she said.

‘Just so long as it isn’t work,’ he mumbled crossly before lifting the receiver.

‘I’m terribly sorry if I’m interrupting,’ came a familiar voice. ‘But I wanted to thank you again for finding Clem so quickly. God, I can’t tell you what it felt like to lose him.’

Den put his hand quickly over the mouthpiece and mimed ‘
Martha
’ silently to Lilah.

‘That’s okay,’ he said. ‘It’s what we’re here for.’

‘I kept thinking about Nina and how we’d failed her by not keeping him safe. He’s asleep now, poor little chap.’

‘Did he say anything about why he did it?’

‘Not much, but reading between the lines, I rather think it had something to do with Hugh. They were bickering at lunchtime and Hugh’s looking a bit sheepish now.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Not that I want to blame anybody.
They’re very close, compared to some brothers. I guess Clem’s just extra sensitive at the moment. Anyway, all’s well that ends well, as they say. I’m sure there’s been no harm done.’

‘I’m sure too,’ he said, hoping the words sounded sufficiently confident to persuade her to curtail the call. But it seemed she had more to say.

‘I was thinking, before this happened, about a conversation we had here last night. Hermione came to dinner and I asked her about Frank Gratton being Nev’s godfather. She didn’t give a proper explanation of how it came about, but it sounds as if she was
really
close to Charlie’s mother – more so than I ever realised. This probably sounds strange to you, especially after the way I was talking on Monday, but I can’t get her out of my mind. Something’s been going on. And then – one of her horses damaged her shoulder, and it sounds like a really nasty animal and I was just wondering …’ She hesitated and Den waited. ‘Well, I know for a fact she didn’t want Alexis to get into anything permanent with Charlie. She made no secret of that, months ago. I’m just wondering whether she got someone to ride over here on that horse and let it loose on him. Charlie, I mean. I’m sure she wouldn’t have done it herself, but it does sound like the horse from hell. She calls it Boanerges.’ She forced a laugh.

‘Boa … what?’

‘You know. There’s a poem by Emily Dickinson? “The Railway Train”.
I like to see it lap the miles and lick the valleys up.
It’s one of my favourites. The last verse is
And neigh like Boanerges; then, punctual as a star, stop, docile
and omnipotent, at its own stable door.
Well, I
am
an English teacher,’ she concluded apologetically. ‘I don’t really know who the original Boanerges was, but this one’s as big and strong as a train, very nearly.’

‘Docile and omnipotent,’ Den repeated, as if tasting the words.

‘Lovely, isn’t it.’ There was a pause before she began again. ‘Hermione says you haven’t interviewed her yet. Are you planning to?’

Den sighed wearily. ‘I was within a quarter of a mile of doing so when I got the call about Clem this afternoon. Every time I try, something intervenes. Can I just get this straight – what exactly are you trying to tell me?’

‘That Hermione Nesbitt possesses a big strong horse and that she has a lot of history connecting her to Charlie,’ she summed up impressively.

‘Okay, thanks for the hint. Could anybody have taken Boanerges without her knowing about it?’

‘I doubt it. She’s got dogs galore and stable hands. There’d have been some sort of alarm
raised if that happened. Especially as the person obviously took the horse back again afterwards. If the theory’s right, that is.’

‘If you don’t mind my asking, what do you think of Hermione yourself?’

Martha took a long time over her reply. ‘I didn’t like her at all when Nina first married Nev, and she’s not done much to endear herself to me since then. But she
is
fantastic with the boys. They adore her. So she can’t be all bad. You know, I got the weirdest feeling last night that she wanted to
protect
them. Against Charlie, I mean. That she didn’t want them to think about him or talk about him any more.’

‘And yet he’s the child of her closest friend and friendly with her own son.’

‘That’s right,’ she agreed.

Lilah shifted noisily, indicating she thought the phone call had lasted long enough.

‘I’ll have to go,’ he said. ‘I’ll keep you informed if anything happens.’

Martha didn’t resist. ‘Have a good Easter, then,’ she said. ‘And thanks for listening.’

Lilah, flipping through the
Radio Times
on the sofa, said nothing. Den looked at his watch. ‘That took nearly twenty minutes. I’m sorry.’ He went to cuddle close to her on the sofa again, but she didn’t make any move to accommodate him.

‘Come on, Li,’ he wheedled, ‘it wasn’t my fault
she phoned.’ Inwardly, he could feel impatience rising; sulks were a stupid waste of time in his book. But he was frightened too; he knew he would have to tread carefully.

She gave him a steady unsmiling stare.

‘Shit!’ He thumped a fist on the back of the couch. ‘What am I supposed to do now?’

‘Nothing.’ She flicked her head and ran a swift hand over the short hair at the back of her neck. ‘It’s just … Martha shouldn’t have phoned you here. It’s starting to feel like a habit.’ She stared hard at him again.

Relief flushed through him like a sweet draught of wine. He smiled broadly. ‘You’re jealous!’ he told her happily. ‘Jealous of Martha. I don’t believe it.’

‘And that’s something to be pleased about, is it?’ He could see she was having to hold on tight to the bad mood; the storm had passed once more. It felt like a game now, harmless, though potentially confusing. The rules were still unclear in his mind.