Grave Stones (23 page)

It was weeks later that Joanna was finally able to piece the whole case together. Tim Bradeley turned out to have been stunned. Nothing worse. And from his hospital bed he was anxious to explain events.

So most of the gaps were filled in with his help and verified by a thorough search of the barn. The animal feed sacks had indeed contained animal feed. As well as packets of cigarettes, a few thousand at her estimation.

Bradeley’s had been a minor role; he had been little more than a carrier. Poorly paid.

‘But not as poorly paid as being a driver for Farrell’s,’ he said grimly. ‘My wife and I could hardly afford decent housing, let alone holidays and a car. And we’ve got kids.’

According to him, the extra money had simply melted away in everyday living expenses. He gave a wry smile when Joanna questioned him about this. ‘Put it like this,’ he said, ‘it made the difference between having the heating on or not, holidays camping in the
rain or a fortnight at Benidorm. It didn’t exactly buy me a yacht or a private jet.’

‘But why risk so much?’ She leant in, anxious to discover the truth. ‘You would have got a couple of years inside – at most. Not worth trying to kill a copper for.’

Bradeley stared beyond her. ‘She told me different.’

‘Who told you? What?’

Bradeley’s eyes grew stormy and resentful.

‘That demon woman,’ he said. ‘Judy. She said I was the only real link between the goods coming over and their distribution, said that I would be charged as an accessory to Jakob’s murder, if not charged with it. She said that the police,’ he looked straight at her, ‘knew that I’d seen his money and I would be chief suspect, that I’d never see my wife and kids again. I was desperate,’ he finished.

It struck Joanna then that Bradeley might not be very bright but Judy Wilkinson and her mother had known exactly which buttons to press and had turned Tim Bradeley from an innocent into a dangerous and desperate man. Put a gun in his hands and he was very dangerous indeed because he panicked.

She charged him anyway.

Even though he’d led her straight to Judy Wilkinson and her mother, Avis.

Arresting both the Grimshaw females gave her one of the most pleasurable moments of her career. And how they talked, each one blaming the other.

Nice family, she thought. Avis, Judy and Jakob. The
three of them had deserved each other.

Two weeks later she faced her team and debriefed them.

‘It was Avis Grimshaw who hatched the plot five years ago, soon after she moved from Spain to Eastern Europe. She muscled in on a fake cigarettes business run by a Slovakian crime baron who needed a means to get his goods from Eastern Europe into the heart of England and a distribution point from there. The trail was followed back to Bratislava, where the police have made three arrests.’ She smiled around the room.

‘Avis contacted her daughter.’ She scanned the alert faces. ‘Not through maternal affection, you understand, but with a business proposition. The animal feeds supplier was ideal. Great big smelly sacks of animal food, lorries driving over here on a daily basis. The farm, too, was ideal. People can come and go without attracting attention: lorries, cars etcetera. A few sacks of “animal feed” going into a car boot would attract no undue interest. Even we have a low index of suspicion of farms and farmers. The only hurdle was Tim Bradeley, the driver. Luckily, he was poorly paid and with a family to provide for even a few thousand a year made enough difference for him to cooperate. The cigarettes were packed in the animal feeds sacks. All Tim had to do was to make sure that the sacks marked with a certain code found their way into Grimshaw’s barns. Judy would see to the rest. And as Bradeley told me, if the crime was uncovered there was always the chance he could plead ignorance.’

A few of the officers started fidgeting. She knew what they were anxious to know. She held her hand up. ‘Patience,’ she said.

‘The trouble started when Brian Young, a smalltime criminal recently out of prison, tumbled into the very bar that Mrs Grimshaw, alias Maureen Dudson, had bought and was running with her ill gotten gains. She’d thought she was safe, that she’d “disappeared” completely. How many people from Leek were likely to drop into a bar in Eastern Europe? It was her bad luck that she was recognised. She’d enjoyed being incognito. She quickly realised the danger that Young posed and decided to set him up. In the background, Jakob Grimshaw was ignorant both of the fact that his farm was being used as a premises for the illicit trade and of the true fate of his wife. In fact, he’d been so convinced that she had vanished with another man and would never return that he played a cruel trick on his daughter, planting the evidence, which he knew very well she would find with her talent for nosiness.’

Joanna paused. She could well imagine Judy’s giggles, shared with her mother, when she read the letter, detailing Avis’s
supposed
fate. ‘Judy replaced the letter in the box, both mother and daughter thinking it might come in useful some time later. A little bit of talented play-acting and she could easily convince everyone of her horror at her mother’s “terrible death”. But then things became increasingly unstable. The farm was running at a loss. Jakob was selling off land; the housing estate was built. He double-crossed
Frankwell over the sale of the field and then talked of packing in the farm altogether. And there was always the chance that he might uncover some of the fake cigarettes. Judy and her mother decided he had to go. But they needed a patsy. Enter Young, the garage mechanic just out of prison who was ready to muscle in on the smuggling business, right up to his sweaty armpits, and if he didn’t get his way was not above a bit of blackmail. The man with no real motive to kill the farmer suited their purpose only too well. If they could pin the murder on an ex-con and dispose of Grimshaw, it would kill two birds with one stone. And they could always fall back on poor, gullible Bradeley. But oddly enough, the fact that the body lay undiscovered for about a week worked against them. It meant that we didn’t know the date or time of death, which in turn meant that carefully laid alibis were useless. Still – it had been worth the risk. Take Jakob Grimshaw out of the equation as well as Young, and Avis could return from the dead and take over the farm, reunited with a daughter who would “forgive” her for playing dead for so long.’

It was DC Alan King who asked the question on everyone’s lips. ‘So who did kill Jakob Grimshaw?’

‘Well,’ she said, ‘we don’t actually know. Avis blames her daughter while Judy says it was her mother. We can’t do firearms tests as too much time has passed. They’ve had ample time to destroy any clothes that might contain forensic evidence.’ She paused. ‘So we decided to charge them both. The CPS is happy with
that. Who knows,’ she said smiling, ‘they might even be lucky enough to share a cell.’

The dissatisfaction at her initial statement gave way to smiles and finally a burst of laughter.

She joined them, needing some lightness before she faced the necessary inquiry into her behaviour on the night Korpanski was shot. There’d be no offer of Chief Inspector either Piercy or Levin now. It would be a blot on her career, no longer the blue-eyed girl of the Leek police force.

She recounted the same story to Korpanski, giving the sling a cursory look. ‘Unfortunately, Mike, although we barked up the right tree…’

He grunted and she continued. ‘I put you in danger. Maybe the squad of clumsy-footed coppers wouldn’t have been such a bad idea after all.’

Korpanski closed his eyes and she knew the arm was as painful as it looked.

‘I’m sorry, Mike.’

He opened his eyes. ‘I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes when Fran comes visiting.’

‘Quite.’

Weddings take a lot of planning. The venue, the food, the dress, the bridesmaids.

Bridesmaids?!

Honeymoon. Date. Sometimes Joanna felt dizzy with the planning of it all. Her sister and mother, however, were in their element and enthusiastically took her shopping.

The trouble was that none of the wedding dresses was right for her. Unlike many little girls, Joanna had never visualised herself waltzing up the aisle in a float of white netting and pearls. But neither could she picture herself in some of the stiff, cream, tailored dresses that clung to the contour and flared out in a fishtail. As September moved towards October she began to panic. They had only allowed a few months’ engagement and she had to wear something.

Veils, tiaras, even hats and fascinators, which failed to do as they’d promised.

Matthew offered no help beyond telling her that Jane had worn a ‘traditional’ dress and he would love her whatever she wore, which didn’t help at all, particularly as Matthew looked quite soft and sentimental as he spoke the words. He was looking forward to being married. He wasn’t thinking about the detail at all.

Finally, like all good friends, Caroline came to the rescue. Sporting an impressive baby-bump that seemed to play a non-stop game of football, she took Joanna to a small, exclusive dress shop in Knightsbridge and watched as she worked her way along the rack.

As she glanced through the dresses, Joanna began to feel depressed. The trouble was that she simply wasn’t a “wedding person”. Left to her own devices she might not have wed at all – ever – but Matthew wanted it so very much. He had left his wife and daughter for this. She owed it to him.

She turned to Caroline in despair. ‘I don’t have to wear white, do I? Or ivory?’

Caroline shook her head. ‘But remember, Jo,’ she warned, ‘Matthew is a traditionalist. He won’t appreciate you turning up in red…’ her face darkened as she saw the hanger Joanna was fingering, ‘or black.’

‘Hmm.’ Joanna turned again to the rack of dresses until she found one that caught her eye. It was…

For that you’ll have to wait for her wedding day.

If you want to share Detective Inspector Joanna Piercy's reading habits try
Second Shot
by Zoë Sharp and you'll see why Matthew had trouble tempting her away from it.

With acknowledgement to Hilary Barnes who paid a princely sum to be a character in this book, donated in aid of the Maer Hills Preservation Society.

Born in Yorkshire and brought up in South Wales, P
RISCILLA
M
ASTERS
is the author of the popular series set in the Staffordshire moorlands featuring Detective Inspector Joanna Piercy. She has also written several medical stand-alone mysteries. Priscilla has two sons and lives in Staffordshire. She works part time as a nurse.

Joanna Piercy series

Winding up the Serpent

Catch the Fallen Sparrow

A Wreath for My Sister

And None Shall Sleep

Scaring Crows

Embroidering Shrouds

Endangering Innocents

Wings Over the Watcher

Grave Stones

Martha Gunn series

River Deep

Slipknot

Other

Night Visit

Disturbing Ground

A Plea of Insanity

The Watchful Eye

Buried in Clay