Текст книги "Dying Fall"

Автор книги: Elly Griffiths

Соавторы: Elly Griffiths
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‘Elaine?’ Pippa’s lip curls. ‘She was mad about him but he was embarrassed by her. She was always turning up drunk, offering him her body.’

Nice, thinks Sandy. The only people who turn up on his doorstep are Jehovah’s Witnesses. Perhaps he should move to Fleetwood.

‘So there was nothing between Dan and Elaine?’ he asks.

‘Oh they may have had a fling before I came on the scene, but when I … knew him, Dan despised Elaine. She was so out of control. I think he was almost afraid of her.’

‘Really?’ This was interesting.

‘Yes, when she was drunk she’d threaten to kill herself and him.’

In that order? wonders Sandy.

‘She threatened to kill him?’

‘Only when she was drunk.’

Could a drunk Elaine have set Dan’s house on fire in a fit of jealous rage? Sandy wonders. It’s possible. Her only alibi is Guy; just as Pippa’s only alibi is Clayton.

‘What about Guy,’ he asks. ‘Where does he fit in?’

‘He’s devoted to Elaine. He’s the only one who can handle her. But I don’t think they’re lovers. In fact I always wondered whether he was gay. He certainly seemed a bit in love with Dan.’

‘Popular chap.’

Pippa’s eyes fill with tears. Sandy thinks they’re genuine because they make her mascara run. ‘Dan was a lovely, lovely man. Everyone adored him.’

So it would seem, thinks Sandy.

*

‘It’s a real shame,’ says Gary, the estate agent. ‘I don’t expect we’ll get another tenant now.’

Cathbad is tempted to say that the real shame is that a man who was alive a few days ago is lying dead in the mortuary. But he decides not to bother. There is a grey materialistic aura over Gary and, indeed, over the whole office, so he contents himself with stroking Thing and asking why Dame Alice’s cottage is unlettable. It seems a highly desirable residence to him.

‘It’s got a reputation,’ says Gary darkly. ‘I don’t know if you’ve heard of the Pendle Witches? Well, this house used to belong to one of them. An old lady lived there for years and people round here used to say she was a witch too. Then she died and it came on our books. We couldn’t get a tenant to stay there. People said there were strange noises, things kept moving about, odd lights appeared in the garden at night. One man said he woke up in the night to see an old woman sitting at the foot of his bed, just staring at him. Someone else said they’d seen Dame Alice sitting in her rocking chair, knitting. The place was empty for years until your friend moved in.’

‘And he didn’t care about the ghosts?’

‘No.’ Gary looks dubiously at Cathbad, who smiles blandly back. ‘I understood he was into that sort of thing. He said that he’d make peace with Dame Alice’s spirit. And now this happens!’

‘You think his death had something to do with Dame Alice?’

Gary laughs uneasily. ‘No. I don’t think it. I don’t believe in any of that stuff. But folk round here will believe it. They’ll think the old lady got him in the end.’

Cathbad doesn’t quite buy the agent’s protestations. He thinks that Gary is the type that believes everything and nothing. But he’s not concerned with Gary right now. He’s seeing himself living in Dame Alice’s cottage with Thing, tending the herb garden and walking on the high hills at dawn. He likes the north; there’s something clear and honest about it that appeals to him. And, if Judy doesn’t want him in her life, he can’t keep hanging on in Norfolk hoping for a glimpse of her and the baby. Far better to make a clean break. He can always find work as a lab assistant and, if he’s careful, Pendragon’s legacy will last for some time.

‘If you did find a tenant,’ he says, ‘I suppose the rent would be quite low.’

*

Tim comes back from the forensic data recovery company full of news. This is another private company, much used by the police and much resented by Sandy. After his last visit (when Sandy asked one of the analysts, ‘Do you do this because you can’t get a girlfriend?’) it has been tacitly agreed that Tim should handle communication with the outfit. Today’s visit seems to have been a success. Tim is not a demonstrative person but he is positively beaming as he looks round the door of his boss’s office.

‘Glad someone’s got something to smile about,’ says Sandy.

‘They’ve tracked down the University Pals website,’ says Tim. ‘You know, the emails that were sent to Ruth Galloway and Dan Golding.’

‘Well? Don’t keep us in suspense. Who sent them?’

‘Clayton Henry.’

Sandy whistles. ‘Did he now? Why, I wonder?’

‘Could just have been fishing in the dark,’ says Tim. ‘Pardon the pun.’ Sandy looks blank and Tim wonders if he has forgotten the whole phishing/fishing conversation. He hasn’t; he just thinks that Tim is being a tosser.

‘What I mean,’ says Tim hastily, ‘is that Clayton might have known that he would need Ruth Galloway’s identity at some later point, to find information about the bones. He could just have been trying to see what he could pick up.’

‘But how did he know that Golding had contacted Galloway in the first place?’

Tim shrugs. ‘He must known that they were at university together. It wouldn’t be difficult to work out if he knew where and when Golding was at university. And he would have known all that from the University Pals information.’

‘He must have known there was something unusual about the bones,’ says Sandy, ‘something Golding hadn’t told him.’

‘Do you think that Henry switched the bones?’ asks Tim. ‘With Terry Durkin’s help?’

‘Doesn’t make sense,’ muses Sandy. ‘Why get Dr Galloway up here if he’d removed the original bones? He must have known that she’d spot the switch. She’s the expert, after all. And without the bones he wouldn’t have his big story. No chance of making megabucks and getting himself out of shit creek.’

‘Then who did switch them?’ says Tim. ‘And where are they now?’

‘Don’t know,’ says Sandy. ‘But Clayton Henry’s afraid of someone, and if we find out who my guess is we’ve got our killer.’

‘You don’t think it’s Henry himself then?’

‘I had his wife in just now.’

‘Pippa? Really? What did she want?’

‘To tell me about her affair with Golding. How it wasn’t really her fault because she’s had a hard life.’

‘And has she had a hard life?’

‘Well her first husband turned out to be gay.’

Tim often wonders if Sandy thinks he’s gay because he wears aftershave and plays tennis. But his boss’s face is inscrutable.

‘That surprises me,’ he says.

‘Does it?’ says Sandy. ‘It doesn’t me. Do you remember when we looked at the ex-Pendle students arrested for racist or homophobic behaviour?’

‘Yes,’ says Tim, though he clearly doesn’t remember them as well as Sandy.

‘Do you remember the woman? Philippa Moore? Arrested for using offensive language at a gay rights march.’

‘Philippa … Pippa … do you think that was her?’

‘Oh, it was her, all right. I’ve been looking her up. She’s written a few letters to papers complaining about gay men who marry innocent young girls and then desert them.’

Tim doesn’t know what surprises him more. That Sandy has actually been using the internet to research the activities of Pippa Henry or that the stylish woman he remembers from the windmill obviously still holds a grudge about something that must have happened ten or fifteen years ago. And if she holds a grudge about that, what might she think about a lover who abandoned her, for example?

‘Was it serious between her and Golding?’ he asks. ‘She’s hardly mentioned in the diaries.’

‘She says she was in love with him. It was more mental than physical apparently.’

Tim, like Sandy before him, looks sceptical. ‘Do you think she could have killed Golding? Maybe he’d tried to finish the affair. We know she doesn’t take rejection well.’

‘It’s possible,’ says Sandy. ‘Her only alibi is her husband and there are all sorts of reasons why he might back her up. Maybe they were even in it together. I’ve seen stranger things. They could have planned it together to teach him a lesson. And there’s the next-door neighbour too.’

‘Elaine Morgan?’

‘According to Pippa, she was wild about Golding. Used to turn up on his doorstep offering him her body.’

‘Makes a change from double glazing.’

‘My thoughts exactly. We know that Elaine Morgan has a drink problem. She’s not exactly a stable personality.’

‘And her only alibi’s her housemate.’

‘Yes, and God knows what their relationship is. The whole lot of them seem to be at it like rabbits.’

There is a silence, during which Tim’s stomach gives a thunderous rumble. He looks at the clock over Sandy’s desk. It’s one o’clock. He was up at six to go to the gym and he’s starving.

‘Fancy some lunch, boss?’ he says. ‘They’ve got chips in the canteen.’

‘No, you’re all right,’ says Sandy. ‘I’m meeting someone.’

*

Nelson had been surprised when Sandy had suggested that they meet for lunch. The very word ‘lunch’ has a soft, southern sound that he doesn’t associate with Sandy. A pint, yes. Tea, perhaps. But lunch? No. Lunch is for city types in striped shirts or women with too much time on their hands, not for jaded policemen with murder cases to solve. But his surprise doesn’t stop him accepting Sandy’s invitation. He’s getting slightly bored with visiting garden centres and he’s keen to know more about the case. As far as he’s concerned, someone is threatening his child, which makes it his business.

Sandy named a pub near the station. ‘It’s about the only place these days where they don’t do bloody karaoke,’ he said on the phone. When Nelson arrives, Sandy is already there, nursing a pint. He can see why the boozer appeals to Sandy. It’s a dour little place, dedicated to drinking, with very few concessions to modern life. There’s a TV showing the racing, that’s it. No karaoke, no cappuccino, no gastro menu. Food choice consists of a butty or a pie. Nelson chooses a pie.

‘This your local?’ he asks.

Sandy grunts. ‘Don’t have locals any more. Pubs used to be places where men could escape. Now they’re full of children and hen parties.’

The clientele of this pub consists of three old men and a greyhound. The dog, who wags his tail at Nelson, might well be the only one who is still alive. Nelson sympathises with Sandy over the karaoke but he’s never really wanted to escape from women. He gets on well with men, he couldn’t survive in the force otherwise, but he likes the company of women. Maybe it comes from having two older sisters. Maybe it’s because, for the last nineteen years, he’s been outnumbered three-to-one in his own household.

‘When are you going back to Norfolk?’ asks Sandy.

‘Next week.’

‘Sorry to leave?’

Nelson pauses, looking into his pint. Will he be sorry to leave Blackpool? He’ll be glad to put some distance between himself and Maureen, much as he loves her. It’ll be grand to see the girls again. They’re both coming home for a few weeks before term starts in September. It’s not that he’s longing for Norfolk exactly. It’s just that, like it or not, it’s home. Jesus. How did that happen?

‘I’m always sorry to leave,’ he says at last. ‘But I’m not much cop at holidays.’

‘Me neither,’ says Sandy. ‘Went to Disneyland once. Shortened my life. I’m not a fan of heights. Dangling upside down in mid air isn’t my idea of fun.’

‘Reminds me of Madame Cindy’s House of Pain,’ says Nelson. ‘Remember Madame Cindy?’

They reminisce for a few minutes and Nelson starts to wonder if, incredibly enough, Sandy has actually asked him here for a chat, when his old friend leans back in his chair and says, ‘She’s a lovely woman, your Michelle.’

Nelson looks up in surprise. What’s all this about? Are they actually going to talk about their wives? And in all the time he’s known him he’s never heard Sandy offer such an enthusiastic tribute to anyone. Of course, Michelle is a lovely woman but Sandy can’t have seen her for years. He agrees that Michelle is far too good for him and asks politely after Bev. Sandy ignores this overture. More pint-staring and then Sandy says, ‘Can I ask you a question, Harry?’

‘Of course.’

‘Is there anything going on between you and the archaeologist girl?’

‘Ruth? Why do you ask?’

‘So there is then.’

Nelson curses himself for falling into the oldest policeman’s trap in the book. He says, carefully, ‘There was something a few years ago. We’re just friends now.’

‘And the wee lassie. Is she yours?’

Nelson remembers that when Sandy lapses into the idiom of his Scottish mother, it’s always a sign of deep emotion.

‘Yes,’ he says. ‘It’s all a right mess.’

He thinks that Sandy will leave it there, go back to talking about the past or discussing Blackpool’s prospects in the Premier League. Instead, his friend leans forward and says, almost urgently, ‘Be careful, Harry. What you’ve got with Michelle, that’s worth keeping. I’ve seen the way that Ruth looks at you. She’s in love with you. Just don’t do anything stupid. I know what you’re like when you think you’re doing the right thing.’

Nelson can think of nothing to say to this. His pie arrives but he doesn’t feel hungry somehow.

CHAPTER 28

Caz delivers Ruth and Kate back to Beach Row, happy and exhausted. It has been a brilliant day, thinks Ruth, as she dumps wet towels in the washing machine and starts to prepare supper. The Water Park had been heaven. Kate had adored playing on the desert island and the pirate ship, splashing in the Blue Lagoon paddling pool and negotiating Ratty’s Rapids. Caz’s children, when not flinging themselves down death-defying slides, had played sweetly with Kate, leaving Ruth free to enjoy some actual swimming (though it was hard to do lengths in a trapezoid-shaped pool crammed with over-excited toddlers).

Cathbad was wrong to say that it was naff and over-priced, decides Ruth. Well, not entirely wrong, but sometimes, with children, naff is good. It had been expensive, though. Ruth shudders at the memory of the cappuccinos drunk at the ‘poolside reef’. But Cathbad has no right to be so judgemental. He keeps going on about how much Kate had loved playing on the beach with him. ‘Just the sand and the sea. No commercial rubbish. Just good natural energies.’ Well of course Kate had liked playing on the beach. She’s two, for God’s sake. That doesn’t mean that she can only enjoy herself in Cathbad’s wholesome company. He should try looking after her on a rainy afternoon when she’s got toothache and the DVD player’s broken. That would test his powers as a godfather.

Where is Cathbad anyway? She had expected him to be back when she got home. He is probably wandering somewhere in the Pendle Forest, Thing at his side. Well, she doesn’t begrudge him that, exactly. He’s had a tough few days – a tough year – and she knows that he finds walking therapeutic. Still, she hopes he’s back before dark. She doesn’t want to be alone with Kate in the cottage. She is so pleased that they are going home tomorrow. Even in the water park, surrounded by grinning plastic dolphins and mermaid friezes, she kept thinking about that figure on the riverbank. The hooded man, the monster without a face. So many stories involve the appearance of an unknown ‘other’, the stranger whom nobody recognises. Who is the third who walks beside you? Christ on the road to Emmaus. Poor Tom on the blasted heath. Countless fairy tales about the mysterious traveller who arrives by night. Guess my name or I will take your soul.

After a desultory supper, Ruth takes Kate upstairs for her bath. One of the best things about spending the day at a vile commercial theme park is that, by half past six, Kate is so tired that she can hardly keep her eyes open. Ruth is barely two pages into Dora the Explorer when her daughter’s steady breathing informs her that she is asleep and the rest of the evening is, miraculously, her own. She goes downstairs wondering if it’s decadent to drink wine when it’s still light outside. Oh sod it, she’ll just have a small glass.

She pours herself a small glass but it looks so lonely that she tops it up. She’s sure it still only counts as one unit. Then, carrying the wine, she goes into the sitting room, sits on the sofa and opens her laptop. She wants to have another look at Dan’s diaries before Cathbad gets back.

The best thing about electronic diaries is that you can use ‘Find’. Feeling rather guilty, Ruth searches for mentions of herself. There are just two. The one about asking for her help with the bones and one dated 2nd April, in the very early days of the dig, before the skeleton had been discovered:

For some reason, found myself thinking about the old days at UCL. About Finn, Kamal, Ruth and Caz. In those days I always thought I’d be a big success as an archaeologist – write a best-selling book, make a devastating discovery. Well, it hasn’t quite worked out like that. I’ve been a jobbing archaeologist, nothing more. Teaching bored students and doing a bit of desultory digging at weekends. Coming up to Pendle felt like defeat. I was only here because of Karen and I have to admit it hurt that she had a better job than me. Her career was going places whereas mine seemed to have stalled. I knew, as soon as I met Clayton, that the department was in bad shape. They don’t attract enough students or enough funding. The Dean, I think, would like to get rid of history altogether and replace it with something more lucrative and trendy. In the interview, Clayton told me that I’d have a free hand to run the archaeology courses but, in reality, there are so few students that we struggle to maintain anything like a proper programme. Clayton has no feel for or interest in archaeology. It’s too dry and labour-intensive for him. Sam’s really only interested in the modern stuff. Guy is keen and has a good mind. Elaine is just too weird ever to amount to anything as an academic – though she’s bright too. Pendle really seemed like a dead end, the graveyard of my hopes. But this find – this could change everything. A Romano-British temple dedicated to the Raven God. This could be worth an article, even a book. If only I could get the funding, we could do some really good digging here. Who knows what lies buried here?

Who indeed, thinks Ruth, draining her glass without noticing. Dan was right that greater treasures lay beneath the earth but was it this discovery that led to his death? Was Pendle – ‘the graveyard of my hopes’ – literally the death of him?

There are other things here that are interesting too. She remembers Finn and Kamal from their archaeology class. She wonders what they are doing now. She thinks that they, like Caz, got out of archaeology as soon as they could. Didn’t she hear somewhere that Kamal had become a solicitor? Dan’s feelings about his career strike a chord too. Ruth has also been feeling that her professional life has somehow stalled, despite her work with the police (which has proved interesting, if unexpectedly dangerous). She sympathises with Dan, coming to Pendle and finding a failing department full of warring individuals. He does say that Guy has a good mind and, of course, it’s Guy who wants to carry on his work, making a name for himself in the process. Elaine is ‘weird’, which chimes with what Guy has told her. There is little here to suggest that Dan was ever in love with Elaine. Karen must have been his wife. What’s she doing now?

Some of these questions are easily answered. A google search for Kamal Singh comes up with hundreds of entries but Ruth tracks him down via Friends Reunited. Yes, he’s a solicitor, married with three children. What about Finn? Here she has a horrible shock. Finn is dead. He died three years ago of prostate cancer. She tracks him down via a tribute page at the school where he was clearly a much-loved history teacher. Poor Finn. Irish, rugby-loving Finn. Dead at forty. Finn and Dan both dead. Ruth shivers, as if the Grim Reaper is reading over her shoulder. The moving finger writes and, having writ, moves on.

A search for Karen Golding reveals her to be a professor of theoretical physics at Manchester University. Still a high-flyer then. Ruth wonders how she feels about Dan now. Caz said that she seemed very upset at his funeral and it was apparently Karen, the career woman, who wanted to settle down and have children. Why didn’t Dan want children? Ruth remembers his bitter observation that she was probably married with ten children ‘like everyone else’. Maybe Dan just didn’t want to be like everyone else. Maybe he was happy living on his own, having a succession of affairs. But in his diaries he doesn’t sound like a happy man exactly.

She searches the diaries for Pippa and comes up with a couple of mentions. There’s the reference to her presence at the excavation and, a few days later:

Pippa came round. We both know it has to stop but I think neither of us wants to say the word. Pippa talked about leaving Clayton but I don’t think she ever will. She loves the lifestyle – the windmill, the parties, the adoring husband. She couldn’t survive on her own. Does she mean to throw in her lot with me? I’ve never encouraged her to think that we have a future together. I told her that after Karen left I vowed never to marry again. She accepted this at the time but she may think that she can get me to change my mind. I asked (again) if Clayton suspected. She said he didn’t, that he trusts me and would never think that I would betray him. Afterwards, I felt bad about this. Clayton has been good to me, according to his lights, and, whichever way you look at it, I am betraying him. Then I thought that it was odd that she had said that he trusted me, he didn’t think I would betray him. What about Pippa? What about his wife? Didn’t he trust her?

Ruth reads this with, once again, mixed feelings. She finds Dan’s tone a little hard – ‘I’ve never encouraged her to think that we have a future together’ – but at least he had felt some remorse about deceiving Clayton. The part about Pippa is interesting though. Did Clayton trust his wife? Did he know about the affair? And if he had found out, what would he think about the man who had betrayed him, the man he had welcomed into his department, into his life? Would Clayton have been angry? Angry enough to kill?

Did Dan end his relationship with Pippa? Ruth scans the rest of the diary but can find only one other reference to Pippa Henry. Dan is writing about the possibility of organising another dig to explore the area around the temple. He says that Guy and Elaine are keen to help but ‘Pippa thinks that Elaine is dangerous’. That’s all. Was Pippa just prejudiced against Elaine because she knew that she was Dan’s ex-lover or did she know something else about her? Ruth suspects that there are many words that could describe Elaine Morgan but dangerous? It’s an uncomfortable choice. Was Elaine dangerous? To herself? To Dan?

She looks at the time displayed on the side of the screen. Eight o’clock. Where is Cathbad? At least she hasn’t got Thing pacing around, driving her mad. She gets up and pours herself another glass of wine. They’re very small glasses, more like sherry glasses really. She checks her phone. No messages from the wandering warlock. She’s not worried about Cathbad – he’s a grown man and he’s got a bull terrier to protect him – but she does hope he hasn’t decided to stay the night at the cottage. She doesn’t want to be on her own, that’s all. Not with the texter still on the loose and the memory of the hooded figure on the riverbank so clear in her mind. She goes to the front door and looks out. It’s nearly dark outside and the street is deserted. No sign of Sandy’s mythical patrol car. The holiday-making crowds have all gone home. Ruth puts the chain on the front door and goes back into the sitting room.

There is nothing else in the diaries about Pippa or Elaine – or Ruth. The last entry is the one where Dan received a letter from the White Hand containing the names and addresses of his family. The last lines are: I rang Clayton and once again said that we should call the police. He refused. He’s shielding someone. But whom?

Who was Clayton Henry shielding? His wife? Himself? He was scared enough of the White Hand to sanction the removal of the bones to a private laboratory but why won’t he call the police when a member of his department is being threatened? It’s as if the White Hand are moving closer and closer. They write letters, they leave dead birds on Dan’s doorstep, a few days after this last diary entry his house was set on fire. Did they come closer still? Did Dan ever see the cloaked figure standing in the shadows outside his house? Did he ever look into the blackness where the face should be? If so, the diaries aren’t telling.

Ruth is really spooked now. Ladybird, ladybird. Fly away home. Well, she’ll be home tomorrow and she’ll never again go further north than the Wash. Should she check on Kate again? Calm down, she tells herself, it only half-past eight on a summer night. What’s going to happen to you? But, all the same, she thinks she’ll just draw the curtains.

She has just got to the window when the doorbell rings. Ruth smiles with relief. Typical of Cathbad to have forgotten his key. She approaches the door rehearsing her reproaches, just as if she really is his wife. What time do you call this? Why didn’t you ring? Don’t you know we’ve got an early start in the morning?

But it’s not Cathbad standing outside.

It’s the last of the triumvirate. It’s Elaine.