SHADOW OVER THE FENS a gripping crime thriller full of suspense (5 page)

Nikki chose her words carefully. ‘Maybe, or he may allow you to bury him.’

‘But my brother wanted to be cremated. Oh, it will be a cremation, definitely.’

This was not going well. Elizabeth was a highly intelligent woman, but shock had blurred her normally sharp mind.

‘The thing is . . .’ Joseph’s soft voice had taken over. ‘The thing is, Ms Durham, that we are all
very
worried about Martin’s sudden decision to end his life. We need to explore every avenue to understand what happened, and until we are satisfied with our findings and a satisfactory explanation has been reached, we cannot allow Martin’s body to be cremated.’ He paused. ‘For your sake, and for your brother, we need to provide you with answers.’

‘The coroner may feel that you need some sort of closure,’ added Nikki gently. ‘So he could grant you permission for a burial, then later, when a verdict has been reached, Martin’s wishes could be followed.’

Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Dig him up?’

‘I know it sounds awful, but it’s done very discreetly, with the utmost care and compassion,’ added Joseph. ‘And please don’t concern yourself. It may never come to that.’

‘Where is Janna?’ asked Nikki, concerned that Elizabeth was alone.

A small smile spread across her face. ‘She’s slipped over to the garden centre while you are here with me. She needs to tie up a few things with her manager. She’s taking some time off so that I don’t have to deal with this alone.’

‘That’s good.’

‘She’s a good person,’ said Elizabeth. ‘And she’s worried sick over me.’

‘Would it be too soon to ask a few questions?’ Nikki did not want to cause any more distress, but she still needed to tell Elizabeth about the break-in at Knot Cottage.

‘No, I’ll do all I can to help.’ She visibly rallied. ‘And I’m sorry about just now, I don’t know what came over me.’ She looked at them in turn, then abruptly stood up.

‘First, some coffee. Why don’t you both go down to the garden room? There’s a lovely view over the gardens, and you can just see Janna’s pride and joy in the distance. I’ll fetch the drinks, and then I’ll do my best to answer your questions.’

Nikki followed Joseph down three shallow steps, and into the big conservatory. The scent of jasmine and some other sweet, oriental flower hit her immediately. ‘This is beautiful!’ she whispered.

‘This is expensive!’ returned Joseph. ‘Very, very expensive.’ He pointed to a panel on the wall. ‘State-of-the-art automated blinds, automatic humidity and temperature control. Very nice indeed.’

And the exterior of the property was like manicured parkland. ‘How the other half live,’ she breathed. ‘And I guess that is the fabled garden centre.’

At the bottom of the rolling lawns, and on the far side of a long pasture, sunlight was glinting off a massive glass structure.

‘This lodge was the gatehouse for the original estate.’ Elizabeth stood at the top of the steps. ‘We added the garden room, plants being a passion for us both, and we’ve drawn up plans to build a Victorian-style orangery.’

‘That would be some project to undertake,’ said Joseph.

‘If we ever find the time. But excuse me, the coffee will be ready.’

Nikki glanced impatiently at her watch. She wanted to talk to Elizabeth, but she needed to get back to the cottage to try to find out what had been stolen.

‘Black or white?’ Elizabeth placed a tray on a decorated rattan table, picked up the cafetière, and poured the coffee.

Nikki decided that there was no time left for procrastination. She took her drink, sat in big cane chair by the window, and said, ‘When did you last see your brother?’

‘About a week ago. He came for supper a couple of times a month.’

‘And how did he seem?’

‘Top form.’ She sipped her drink tentatively. ‘That’s what makes it all so hard to understand. We both commented on how, oh, how
happy
, he seemed.’

‘More than usual?’

‘Maybe. Or perhaps he was just pleased because a paper he’d written was coming up for publication shortly.’

‘Oh really? On what subject?’ asked Joseph with interest.

‘Salt marsh ecology, management and restoration.’ She gave them a weak smile. ‘Sounds pretty heavy, doesn’t it? When Martin was younger he wanted to be a forensic botanist, but his illness put paid to that. When he recovered, he did continue to study biology and botany, and the marshes provided him with constant interest.’

‘I knew that he was pretty interested in the local plant life, but I had no idea he was
that
knowledgeable.’ Nikki was starting to wonder if she actually knew anything about Martin Durham. ‘Did he have any money worries?’

‘My brother was not rich, but he was financially secure, and the cottage was his, no mortgage. He had no debts either. So no, that was not the problem.’

‘And there is nothing that you can think of that may have been bothering him?’

‘I’ve gone over and over this, since the moment I heard he was dead, but there’s nothing, absolutely nothing.’

‘Did he mention anything to you about changing his medication?’ asked Joseph abruptly.

Elizabeth’s hand trembled for a moment, then her jaw clenched. ‘What do you mean?’

Nikki stared at her. Why should that question bother her?

Joseph gave her an innocent look. ‘Sorry, but we understand that he was keen for his GP to revise his regime?’

‘Oh, that! Yes, I believe she had suggested new drugs were available. I’m not sure if he’d decided to go ahead though.’

‘And I hate to ask this,’ added Joseph, ‘but did he ever take any recreational drugs?’

Elizabeth Durham suddenly laughed out loud. ‘Martin? That’s a joke! He was phobic about his medication! He took nothing that could upset the balance. Not even a herbal remedy. Ask anyone at the Wild Goose, he’d gone there for years, and I guarantee you, he never took one sip of alcohol in all that time, so drugs? No, Sergeant. He wouldn’t have dared!’

‘I’m sorry, but I had to ask,’ said Joseph quietly. ‘Because he was not acting rationally when he went to St Saviours Church.’

‘I should say not. He killed himself, didn’t he?’ said Elizabeth icily.

‘There is another problem, Elizabeth,’ interjected Nikki. ‘Knot Cottage was broken into last night. I accosted the intruder, but sadly he got the better of me.’ She indicated to her bruised face.

‘Oh!’ Elizabeth’s hands flew up to her mouth. ‘How could they? Some thugs, I suppose? Looking for money for drugs! It’s always that these days, isn’t it? Oh, poor Martin, he was so particular about his home.’

Please! Don’t worry about me! thought Nikki, but said. ‘I believe the intruder was after something in particular. Would you have any idea what that could be?’

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘No. He had nothing of great value.’

‘What about his papers, maybe the one about the salt marsh? Would it have any monetary significance?’

She shook her head. ‘No. Years of work, yes, but it’s not about making money.’

Nikki felt a mild sense of discomfort surrounding Martin’s sister, but pressed on. ‘So there would have been nothing of importance inside his locked desk, then?’

‘Nothing that I know of,’ replied Elizabeth shortly.

‘Well, thank you for your help,’ Nikki stood up. ‘I’m sorry if we distressed you.’

‘Will you keep me notified of any developments?’

Nikki nodded. ‘Of course, and we may need to speak to you again. Right now, we are going back to Knot Cottage.’

‘You know Martin thought a lot of you and Hannah,’ Elizabeth said suddenly. ‘He was very upset when Robert left you, although he never liked the man, I’m afraid.’

‘No one in their right mind liked my ex-husband, Elizabeth,’ said Nikki with a grimace. ‘The only good thing about him was his daughter.’

‘And how is Hannah now?’

‘No change, although they are talking about sending her to a clinic in Belgium, in Liege.’ Nikki didn’t want to talk about Hannah, and stepped a little closer to the door. ‘They offer no promises, but they understand her problem better than most.’

Elizabeth seemed to sense her discomfort, nodded sadly and changed the subject.

‘When do you think I will I be able to go over and clean up? I’d like to go soon. Martin would hate it to be in a mess.’

Nikki understood what she meant. His place was always immaculate. Too immaculate, she wondered? ‘We’ll ring you.’ She took a card from her bag and handed it to Elizabeth. ‘My mobile number and direct line is on that. If you think of anything, no matter how insignificant, contact me, okay?’

* * *

Joseph drove carefully through the gate, making sure to avoid a large uneven manhole, and onto the main road. ‘What was that all about?’

‘Pass. She was fine, although naturally distraught about her brother, until you mentioned the drugs, then she nearly disappeared up her own bottom. But why?’

‘Not sure, but I got the distinct impression that she knew exactly what was in that locked desk.’

‘Which is more than we bloody do,’ muttered Nikki. ‘And I’ve been wondering about his obsession for cleanliness, he’s always been that way and I never really thought much about it. Now I’m wondering if he was scared of infections. What with having to take all those tablets to keep healthy.’

‘Probably was,’ Joseph nodded. ‘I’m sure I would be.’

Nikki clutched at her waist as they approached a level-crossing. ‘Shit! That’s tender!’

‘Then I suggest we find somewhere to grab a hot drink, a sandwich, and you take some very strong painkillers before we go on to Knot Cottage.’

‘I agree, and I know where we can get all that for free,’ she grimaced through the pain. ‘My kitchen.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

Knot Cottage had thrown up nothing of interest. The only papers left, in a small stationery drawer in the broken desk, were some diet sheets and lists of vitamin and mineral supplements.

Only one thing had claimed Nikki attention, and that was an old photograph. One of Martin, Hannah and herself, collecting samphire out on the marsh. Wind rippled their hair into ringlets, and tugged at their clothes. She remembered the day, and the buckets of the fleshy-leaved plant that her aunt wanted for pickling, but she couldn’t for the life of her recall who had taken the picture. It had made her feel both nostalgic and mildly confused as to why Martin had kept it.

Now the photo sat on her desk. She rather liked it, and it would mean nothing to anyone else, so for now at least, it would stay with her.

Joseph was sorting the paperwork they had brought back, and she was re-reading the witness statements, when he phone rang.

‘Mr Cavendish-Small, what can I do for you?’

The man sounded on edge, which Nikki thought to be quite understandable considering what he’d been through.

‘I just keep feeling that it was all my fault, Inspector, but I was terrified that my sightseer’s may rush for the stairs, you see. And that would have been a terrible disaster, and there were children to consider.’

‘How could it possibly have been your fault?’

‘Because I reached out to him. And he recoiled, as if I were the devil incarnate.’ The man paused, then said, ‘One of the kiddies said the man was afraid of me, and I believe the boy was right, but what could I have done to scare him so badly that he . . .’

‘Listen to me, Mr Cavendish-Small. It was absolutely nothing to do with you. We don’t know what upset the balance of his mind, but I assure you, it happened to him long before he ever got near that viewing platform.’

‘Common sense says that you are right, Inspector Galena, but you didn’t see his eyes! I’ll never forget them. They looked like the sort of thing you see in horror films, not in your own parish church.’

Nikki felt desperately sorry but could not console him. How could she? It must have been quite horrific. ‘All I can say is that it wasn’t your fault, sir. That poor man was just very sick. Beyond anyone’s help. The most important thing is that no one else was hurt, and that was down to you. You did very well under dreadful circumstances, sir.’

The man’s voice seemed to lack all power, and he said, ‘Thank you, Inspector, it’s kind of you to say that, but I still believe I may have been to blame.’

Before Nikki could reply, she realised that Charles Cavendish-Small had hung up. She replaced her phone, stared at the old photograph propped up against her monitor screen and thought, Oh Martin, what have you done?

* * *

Joseph was having trouble concentrating. For some reason, every time he found himself with a few moments to himself, his mind wandered to the woman from the pool. Bryony, she had called herself. He didn’t think he’d ever met anyone with that name before. He wondered what she did for a living, and he also wondered if she were married. Because that would be where his fantasy ended. He didn’t do married. In fact it had been years since he did anything that involved a relationship of any kind. He had one failed marriage of his own, and one difficult daughter living in another country. And it still hurt, so . . .

He picked up his mobile phone from the desk and went to find the boss. He needed some work to keep his mind from straying.

In the corridor he was practically leapt on by Cat Cullen and Dave Harris. He knew from their beaming faces that they had just had a really good result.

‘Wacky baccy farm all sorted?’ he asked.

‘Not just one! Three of them, Sarge!’ Cat’s eyes sparkled.

‘
And
we got all but one of the little scrotes who were running them,’ added Dave.

‘Drinks are on us tonight, Sarge, over in the Hammer at seven. Can you make it?’

‘I’ll be there, and good work. The guv’nor will be well pleased.’

‘We’ll just need to get the paperwork done, and we are free to help you out, Sarge.’ Dave gave him a shrewd look. ‘I hear not everything in the garden is blooming?’

‘And that the guv took a beating?’ added Cat in little more than a whisper.

Joseph nodded. ‘There’s a bad feeling about this enquiry all right. Even I’m unsettled by it, and I never knew the poor guy who topped himself.’

‘Well, as from tomorrow we are all yours. Maybe four heads will be better than two.’ Cat skipped off like a little kid going to a party. ‘Don’t forget! Seven o’clock at the Hammer!’

‘Is the guv’nor okay, Sarge?’ Dave had real concern in his voice.

‘Very sore, in more ways than one. The bruises she can handle, but she’s far from happy that the assailant decked her.’

Dave smiled. ‘Ah yes, that would smart. But as long as she’s not badly hurt.’ He moved off down the corridor. ‘See you later, Sarge.’

The DI wasn’t in her office, and Joseph really didn’t feel like going back to the suspicious death reports, so he headed for the vending machine outside the mess room. The guv’nor’s sandwich had worked at the time, but he felt a strong desire for a chocolate boost.

As he strolled along the window-lined corridor, he thought about her home on the fen. It was the kind of house he would have loved to have brought up lots of kids in; and at least three dogs and a cat. She’d always referred to it as a cottage, but it was a proper family farmhouse, and it seemed all wrong for her to live there alone.

He pushed some coins into the machine, pressed a button and waited. At least it would be better bet than the slum of a town flat she’d rented, in order to be closer to the drug dealers. Cloud Cottage Farm was a lovely old place, and he sincerely hoped she’d be happy back there. If he were honest, he’d never really felt comfortable on the wide open flatlands, but seeing Cloud Fen today, he had to admit that there was an airy kind of magic to it, and it was slowly winning him over.

He picked up his Snickers, peeled off the wrapper and balled it up. The bin was a little further along the corridor, and he aimed, threw, and missed. With a snort of disgust he picked it up and placed it inside, glancing out of the big picture window as he did. There was not much to see. Just a narrow lane that ran along the side of the station and down towards the river. It was fairly regularly used, but right now there was only a dog walker and a couple of old men, deep in conversation.

He bit into the chocolate, and thought about Bryony. Maybe he should ask her to go for a drink with him. It couldn’t hurt, and if she said no, well at least he’d tried.

Joseph sighed, and watched as the dog walker disappeared, and a woman with a shopping trolley took his place.

With something of a shock, he suddenly realised that he didn’t want Bryony to say no. Since his last case his priorities had changed. He thought of the Nikki Galena, all alone in that big house, and he knew that he didn’t want to be like that. He wanted someone to share his life with. He didn’t want to just exist and work, he wanted to live.

He straightened up, and smiled to himself. He’d go to the pool tomorrow and he’d sound her out. Then if she happened to be unattached, well, just a drink, no one could take offence at that, now could they?

The thought had barely had time to compute though his brain, when everything froze. He was no longer aware of anything going on around him. He heard nothing, and saw nothing, other than the man who was standing down in the lane, staring up at him, his right hand touching his forehead in a smart salute.

Joseph almost gagged on the chocolate.

It was him. Not a double, not a figment of his imagination. It was Billy Sweet.

* * *

‘Joseph? You okay?’ Nikki stood just metres away from him, but he didn’t seem to notice her. For a moment she thought he was ill, then she saw his expression. She tried to read what she saw, but it was difficult. Confusion, disbelief, and what looked like fear, all clouded his handsome face.

‘I . . . I thought . . .’ He turned to the window and stared anxiously out.

‘What, Joseph? What’s wrong?’

‘There was man in the, uh, lane.’ His speech was stilted. ‘Someone I once knew.’

Nikki raised her eyebrows. ‘And presumably someone you didn’t like very much?’

Joseph’s expression hardened. ‘I hated him.’ He suddenly leant back against the wall and shook his head. ‘That’s a word I never wanted to hear myself say again. I thought I’d learnt all about forgiveness. But then I never thought I’d see
him
again.’

‘Who is he?’ asked Nikki.

‘A bad man,’ answered Joseph slowly. ‘A very bad man.’

Nikki walked over to the window and looked down into the empty lane. ‘And you are sure it was him?’

‘It was him.’

‘Where was he?’

‘Directly below us. Staring up here. At me.’ His face screwed up. ‘But how would he know I was here?’

Nikki frowned. ‘With all this glass, if he kept watch on the station for a while he’d spot you sooner or later. Let’s check out the CCTV. What’s his name, by the way?’

For a moment Nikki thought that Joseph was not going to be able to speak. He was certainly having trouble naming the devil.

‘Billy Sweet,’ he murmured. ‘But don’t be fooled by the name. He’s pure evil.’

‘Come on. Let’s go to the control room. See if we can find him.’ Nikki led the way, and having told the civilian in charge what area they wanted to trace, sat down in front of the computer screens and waited.

‘Two old gits having a barney, and some old biddy with a shopper, now where is our man?’ She stared at the monitors. ‘Ah, there, is that . . . ? No, it’s a bloke and a dog.’

‘Where did you say he stood?’ asked the CCTV operator. Nikki looked at Joseph, who explained again.

‘Then he must have got into the blind spot, Sergeant. There’s one area where the cameras aren’t aligned properly. I’ve been asking maintenance to sort it for weeks.’

‘But surely we’d see him walking into the lane?’ asked Nikki.

‘Not if he came up Hour Glass Alley. It converges into the area with no coverage.’

‘Fat lot of bloody good that is!’ growled Nikki. ‘These really are sodding useless! When you need one, they are either vandalised or there’s no one available to watch them.’ She turned to Joseph. ‘Sorry, Sergeant. But your man got lucky.’

Joseph exhaled. ‘Maybe. Or . . .’

Nikki observed him carefully. Whatever this Sweet character had done in the past, it was having one hell of an impact right now, and she didn’t like it. She had never seen him so rattled, and the last thing Joseph needed was some creepy blast from the past ruining the life he was just getting back together.

She stood up and walked to the door. ‘Coffee, in my office. We need to talk.’

In the short time that Nikki had known Joseph Easter, he had demonstrated incredible self-control. Being an impatient person herself, there had been times when his laid-back approach had made her want to tear his head off his shoulders. And he never talked about himself. The tiny pieces of his life that she was acquainted with had not been shared without considerable pain. The one thing she did know was that he had once been a soldier, a special forces operative. And she had the distinct idea that Billy Sweet came from that area of his past.

She stirred her coffee thoughtfully and contemplated the word
eggshells.
‘Right. Before you tell me to butt out, my friend, I’m going to play devil’s advocate here. What I say may not be my true opinion, but hear me out.’

Joseph looked at her over the top of his coffee mug, and nodded silently.

‘Clearly you haven’t seen this person for years. Could you possibly be mistaken?’

‘He looked exactly the same as I remember him, and his face is etched on my memory for reasons that I’d prefer not to discuss, ma’am,’ said Joseph stonily.

‘Well, that’s odd for starters. He should have aged.’

‘Maybe he had. I didn’t see him for more than a second or two.’

Nikki decided not to press the point that if he’d only seen him fleetingly, he could well have been wrong. ‘Moving on. Is it probable that this man should turn up in Greenborough?’

‘No. Highly improbable.’ Joseph ran a hand through his hair and shook his head slowly. ‘I thought about that the last time I saw him and . . .’

‘You’ve seen him before?’ she exclaimed. ‘You never said!’

‘It was when I was driving out to see Dr Latimer.’

‘I
knew
you were troubled by something when you came back! I thought Helen had upset you.’

Joseph told her about his encounter, then sat back and shrugged. ‘I’d convinced myself that it was just some guy that reminded me of Billy Sweet. But now, I’m sure it was him, ma’am. Dead certain.’

‘Does he have some sort of unfinished business with you, Joseph?’

Joseph’s eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t know. Maybe he knew that I suspected him of some terrible things, maybe not. The other men he served with didn’t want him near them either. He was fearless, but he was a psycho, ma’am. And a loose cannon like that could cost you your life, or that of your comrades. But no, the last I heard he had shipped out and joined a private security force, by that time I was in Civvy Street. End of story, or so I thought.’