The Cipher Garden (16 page)

Hannah tried another tack. ‘I gather that Gail Flint supplies you with wine?’

‘We like to support local business ventures. And of course I’ve known Gail a long time.’

‘She had an affair with Warren not long before he died.’

Bel allowed herself a mischievous smile. ‘Well, nobody’s perfect.’

‘So it wasn’t just a rumour?’

‘I heard the relationship was over before the murder. And Gail would never have killed him. She can be tough, but she’s squeamish. I can’t imagine her doing – what the murderer did to Warren.’

‘Their affair was over, perhaps she was unhappy?’

‘It happens, don’t I know it? She’d have got over it in time. As I did, as Roz did.’

‘You employ Warren Howe’s daughter, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’ Bel glanced at her watch. ‘She will be here soon. I don’t know whether you want to talk to her?’

‘Does she know I’m seeing the two of you this morning?’

Bel shook her head. ‘Don’t forget, the girl’s father was murdered. We tread on eggshells every time the subject comes up when she’s around.’

‘She’s a good worker?’

‘Excellent, when she puts her mind to the job.’

Oliver coloured. ‘The fact is, Chief Inspector, she has a bit of a crush on me. Of course, she’s wasting her time. I don’t encourage her. Bel knows all about it.’

Bel snuggled even closer on the sofa. ‘Persistence runs in that family, you see. But there’s no harm in her, she’ll be fine as soon as she finds someone her own age to moon over.’

Wasn’t Kirsty closer in age to Oliver than Bel? In a casual tone Hannah asked, ‘Who did you think killed Warren?’

‘Isn’t it your job to find out, Chief Inspector?’

Not helpful. ‘You knew the man well. Intimately. Surely you speculated?’

‘Of course we did,’ Bel said. ‘Poor old Warren wasn’t short of enemies. Plenty of people had a motive. The one thing we didn’t know at the time…’

‘Yes?’

She hesitated. ‘I…I’m not sure it’s fair to say.’

‘Come on, Ms Jenner. The man was brutally murdered. And he did mean something to you once.’

She winced. ‘Well, we didn’t know that Tina and Peter
Flint would get involved together – one day.’

‘Are you suggesting that they were having an affair at the time of the murder?’

‘I’m not suggesting anything, Chief Inspector. After all, Tina had an alibi, didn’t she? She couldn’t have killed Warren, even if she wanted to.’

Miranda squeezed Daniel’s hand as they stood on the shingle at the head of Mardale, looking towards the remains of the drowned village. Holding him tight, as if not wanting him to stray to his sister’s side. Louise stood a few feet away, gazing over the bleached and barren stretches left exposed by the receding water. The mountainous ridge known as High Street lined the horizon. In front of them, the preserved remnant of a grey tree stump rose from the stony ground. Other lakes had lush green shores, but Haweswater was different. The drought was revealing a landscape from a lost world.

An elderly couple waved a greeting and stopped to take in the view. The woman’s weather-beaten face was a patchwork of wrinkles, her husband reeked of tobacco. They were both wearing white floppy hats and khaki shorts that stretched to their brown, bony knees.

‘My grandma came from Mardale Green, y’ know,’ the old man said out of the blue. ‘The buggers flooded the valley seventy years back so folk in Manchester could tap into the reservoir.’

‘It’s weird,’ Miranda breathed.

‘Gran told me about the vicar standing in the graveyard, before he was supposed to take the last service. Weeping for his doomed church. When they pulled it down, they used the stones for that draw-off tower, see? The yew trees were eight hundred years old, but did that stop Manchester Corporation taking an axe to ’em?’

‘What happened to the bodies?’ Louise asked.

The man’s wife said, ‘Don’t get him started, love.’

‘Dug ’em up and took ’em to Shap.’ The old man took off his hat and wiped his forehead with a yellow-stained hand. ‘They were supposed to be reburied, but I bet their ghosts still wander round here at night.’

For all the heat of the morning, Miranda gave a little shiver. She pulled Daniel closer. ‘Let’s get back to the car.’

‘Fascinating, don’t you think, Daniel?’ Louise was motionless, as though mesmerised by the resurrected walls and pathways. ‘The homes of a whole community, deluged and lost forever.’

‘They got reservists to dynamite the cottages.’ The old man gave a dry smoker’s cough. ‘Good practice for the war, my grandma used to say.’

As he and his wife pottered away, Miranda jerked Daniel’s hand. ‘Are you coming?’

‘How about we go up the old corpse road?’

‘Good idea,’ Louise said.

‘What’s the point?’ Miranda made an impatient noise. ‘We’ve got a coffin trail of our own in Brackdale.’

Daniel said, ‘OK. Where would you like to go this afternoon? Another walk, or maybe take a look at Beatrix Potter’s old house? Hill Top is only a stone’s throw from the restaurant I’ve booked for this evening.’

‘I don’t mind a bit more exercise,’ Louise said.

‘Haven’t we walked enough in this weather?’ Miranda sighed. ‘Come on, Hill Top it is.’

Kirsty huddled up in the armchair, as if trying to disappear. Her T-shirt depicted a parachutist coming down to earth. Hannah remembered the girl weeping, the first time she’d seen her. No tears yet, thank God. Her fists were clenched and her eyes darted around, as though trying to spot a pair of hidden handcuffs. For ten minutes she responded in quiet monosyllables to Hannah’s attempts to break the ice by asking her about skydiving as well as gentle questions about the murder, before the dam burst under the weight of her resentment.

‘This isn’t getting anywhere. I can’t help you, Chief Inspector, do you understand? My father died a long time ago and I’ve spent years trying to forget about it, not cast my mind back. I don’t want to be hounded any more. Why must you people keep harping on?’

‘I explained that my team reviews unsolved cases in the county.’

‘You must have plenty to choose from. Why bother with Dad? It’s not right, it’s not fair on those who have to carry on.’

The ordeal by innocence. But surely you’d want to know who murdered your father – unless you already had a good idea?

‘We never close a murder file, Kirsty. The other day, we received an item of new information.’

The girl twitched like a lumpy marionette. ‘What do you mean, what new information?’

‘I’m afraid that’s confidential.’

‘But I’m his daughter! I have rights, you know.’

‘Of course you have, Kirsty. Including the right to have us try to find out who killed your father.’

‘That’s rich! A bit late for that, I’d say. Your lot never got anywhere last time. All they did was make our lives a misery.’ Her voice faltered. ‘They – they didn’t seem to trust us. As if they didn’t believe we were up on the Hardknott, the day that Dad was killed.’

‘And all three of you were?’

‘You must have read our statements. We said so right from the start!’

‘You went up the Pass with your brother, yes. And – your mum was with you too?’

‘How many times do I have to tell you?’

Soon Hannah would lose count of the lie-signs. Fingers touching the chin, the nervous cough, traces of perspiration on her brow. Poor Kirsty, she was an amateur in deception. Trouble was, if pushed too hard, she’d fall apart.

‘OK, Kirsty, if there’s nothing else you want to tell me at present, we’ll leave it for the time being. Here is my card. Call me any time if you’d like to talk.’

Kirsty thrust the card into the pocket of her jeans. ‘Why would I want to talk anything over with the police?’

Hannah luxuriated in a yawn. ‘You’d know that better than me, wouldn’t you?’

Sam’s scornful voice burned into Kirsty’s brain as she held the mobile to her ear. He was within earshot of a client, so he couldn’t shout, but he didn’t hide his anger. She felt tears scratching at her eyelids. Thank God the overflow car park was deserted, and she couldn’t be seen or overheard. Hannah Scarlett had driven away, but you couldn’t trust anyone. Not even Oliver.

‘You stupid cow, I bet you’ve got her wondering what you’re keeping back.’

‘Honestly, Sam, I didn’t even hint…’

‘What did you say to her?’

‘Nothing, nothing at all. It was only a short conversation. She gave up in the end, I think she realised she wasn’t getting anywhere.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Positive, but I don’t think she’s going to let go.’

‘Shit.’

‘Listen, Sam, she knows something we don’t. You know the anonymous letters? I think whoever sent them has written to the police as well. This Chief Inspector won’t let go, she isn’t the type. She’ll want to talk to you soon, for sure.’

‘Fit, is she?’

‘You won’t get anywhere if you try to chat her up, Sam. Why don’t you tell the truth? Please?’

‘About what?’

‘About what you were doing the day that Dad died.’

‘Don’t be so fucking stupid.’

‘They’ll keep asking questions.’

‘Hey, if you don’t give me away, I’m safe.’ His voice softened and in a heartbeat he became the brother she dreamed of. ‘I’m depending on you, Kirsty. All right?’

Tina Howe was on her own in the office when Hannah arrived, scanning in photographs of a newly completed garden project. Peter Flint was working over in Hawkshead with Sam, she said, so she was catching up while she had peace and quiet. Her composure was as immaculate as her black business suit. Versace, Armani? Hannah hadn’t a clue; the closest she came to
designer-wear
was leafing through the colour supplements. No one could doubt that this was Tina’s domain, that she was in charge. She nodded Hannah towards a chair with crisp authority, as if greeting a tedious sales rep.

‘Matter of fact, Chief Inspector, I was wondering when you might show your face.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Kirsty called half an hour ago, told me you’d spoken to her about Warren’s murder. I guessed you’d make this your next stop.’ Tina glared. ‘She’s in a right state.’

‘We only talked for a few minutes, but I’m sorry if she’s upset.’

‘It’s hard for her, she was very close to her father, she went to hell and back after he died.’

Hannah gave a no-harm-done smile. Tina’s agenda couldn’t have been clearer if typed out in bold
twenty-point
capitals. The family were victims, not suspects. Put a foot wrong and complaints would come flying in to Lauren.

‘When she’s slept on our conversation, I’m sure she’ll appreciate that it’s in everyone’s interest for us to review the case. We owe it to you and your family, Mrs Howe. You deserve justice. So does your late husband.’

Tina raised thick dark eyebrows. She wasn’t conventionally attractive, yet you scarcely noticed that. For most men, the revealing blouse, short skirt and musky perfume would make up for a lot.

‘Why now? What’s woken up the guardians of justice?’

Don’t let her needle you, Hannah told herself. This isn’t the sort of women who likes members of her own sex. Let alone female police officers.

‘I explained to your daughter that we’ve received additional information about the case.’

‘An anonymous letter?’

Hannah leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk that formed a barrier between them, cupping her chin in her hands. Invading Tina’s space.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘I’m right, aren’t I?’

‘Sorry, Mrs Howe, I can’t comment on that. But I would like to know why you mentioned an anonymous letter.’

Tina put her hands behind her head and breathed out. Hannah guessed it was a well-practised pose. Never mind the horsy jaw, Tina exuded confidence. If she’d let something slip by mistake, she wasn’t going to let it bother her. She’d seen the police off years ago, she could do it again. Hannah half expected a couple of buttons on the silk blouse to pop.

‘I received one myself this week.’

‘Concerning the death of your husband?’

‘Correct.’

‘What did it say?’

‘Can’t remember the exact words, it was only a sentence.’

‘I’d have thought it would stick in your mind.’

‘Frankly, I only glanced at the thing for a couple of seconds.’ Tina shrugged. ‘Did it say I was a murdering bitch? I’m not sure. Something like that.’

Too smooth, Hannah thought, too much like a disdainful actress, rolling out well-rehearsed lines. Yet why would anyone fib about such an accusation, the same accusation made in the tip-off letter?

‘May I see it?’

Tina clicked her tongue. ‘Really, Chief Inspector. You don’t think I would keep garbage like that? I tore the letter up and put it in our shredder at home.’

‘Was the letter typed?’

‘Handwritten. A sort of stencilling. I didn’t check the postmark, I presume it was local.’

‘Who do you think might have sent it?’

‘No idea.’

Not true, Hannah thought, looking at Tina’s narrowed eyes and the way her lips compressed, as if striving to keep a secret.

‘Why would anyone send such a letter to you?’

‘I’m not a psychiatrist, Chief Inspector. There are a lot of sick people in the world, you must know that better than me. Mind you, the police don’t seem very effective when it comes to making sure they are put somewhere they can’t do any harm.’

‘You said at the time that you and your children were up on the Hardknott Pass at the time of your husband’s murder.’

‘Correct.’

‘Any points in your original statement that you’d like to clarify with the benefit of hindsight?’

‘Absolutely none.’

‘Your husband had an affair with Gail Flint.’

Tina snorted with laughter. ‘For goodness sake, Chief Inspector, you’re going to have to understand my husband better. He had lots of affairs and we never discussed one. They meant nothing to him and so they meant nothing to me.’

‘Who do you think killed him?’

‘I rather thought it was your job to tell me that.’

‘You must have turned it over in your mind.’

‘You think it’s so simple, do you, Chief Inspector Scarlett? I suppose you believe you can walk into people’s lives and throw them into turmoil and then come up with
a solution, neatly packed for the media. Fast-tracked for promotion, are you?’

If only you knew
. ‘Are you saying that you don’t have the faintest idea who might have wanted to kill your husband?’

‘Ah, that’s a different question, isn’t it? Fact is, it could have been anyone. A scorned woman, an enraged husband. Warren was careless, that was his downfall. He didn’t mind whoever he hurt. I can only assume he hurt the wrong person and paid the price. A terrible price, but people do terrible things in this world. Don’t you agree?’

‘Simple as that? Person or persons unknown?’

‘Well, yes. It will be to do with shagging the wrong woman at the wrong time, if you ask me. When it came to sex, he was insatiable. Believe me, jealousy didn’t come into it, I was almost relieved whenever someone else took a turn, it meant I got let off a bit more lightly. But I’ll tell you this. Those other women, they would never have had the balls to stay the course with Warren.’

Her head tilted upwards, as if she took pride in having married a Casanova. How could any woman keep so cool when confronted with her man’s infidelity? Hannah’s thoughts flitted back to Marc’s confession of a long ago dalliance with Leigh Moffatt’s sister and her own scorching sense of humiliation.

‘So you can’t confirm that the relationship ended shortly before your husband was killed?’

‘Sorry. You’ll have to interrogate Gail.’

‘Ironic that you are now in a relationship with Mr Flint.’

‘For goodness’ sake. He’s a free agent.’ Tina smirked. ‘A consenting adult.’

‘How has Mrs Flint reacted to your relationship?’

Tina picked up a pencil and started doodling on the pad
in front of her. It was hard to tell what she was sketching. Perhaps a bed of roses.

‘You’d better ask him, I try not to have anything to do with her.’

‘Thanks, I will.’

‘He’ll be back in half an hour. Feel free to hang on here, if you don’t mind my getting on with my work. But remember this. Peter’s marriage was dead before he and I got together.’

‘Is that right?’

‘What are you implying, Chief Inspector?’

‘Just asking a question, Mrs Howe.’

Tina stabbed the pad so hard with her pencil that its point broke. She tossed it into a black plastic desk tidy beside the computer monitor. Her screensaver, Hannah saw, was a group of well-oiled bodybuilders in tight tigerskin pants, flexing their muscles in a variety of leering poses. Perhaps her late husband wasn’t the only Howe whose appetite was insatiable.