A Deadly Thaw (10 page)

As she approached Providence Villa, Kat was surprised to see the daffodils, which days earlier had been a sea of weedy stems, had suddenly become a riot of yellow. They were late, of course. All plants in north Derbyshire blossomed way behind the rest of England. The high altitude and late winters meant a hesitant start to spring.

Her mother had planted these daffs years ago. When she and Lena were children. She could still see her on her hands and knees carefully tending the garden. It had been a thing of beauty once but neither Kat nor Lena had inherited their parents’ green fingers. The garden got by, but only just.

For an instant, Kat felt a pang of shame. The heads of the plants swayed softly in the cool breeze. It felt like the first proper spring day, and, despite everything, she felt her spirits lift. As she turned into the front garden, she saw, with a start, that someone was sitting on the front step. He had his head down and appeared to be drawing something with his shoe in the gravel in front of the doorstep. He looked up at her approach. Mark.

‘What are you doing here? I didn’t give you my address.’ Her pleasure at seeing him was fighting with her shock at seeing a client outside her home.

He stood up, his calm eyes on her. ‘I found it out. It wasn’t difficult. Just asked around. I wanted to see if you were okay.’

‘You can’t come here. You’re my client. I need to maintain—’

He lifted his arm and then dropped it. ‘You can’t be my therapist any more. Not since you told me about the gun. I need to help you. Not the other way around.’

She pushed past him. ‘I don’t need help. I’ve done what you suggested. Given the police the gun and a right palaver it caused too. As for me, I’m just going to carry on as normal. It’s all I can do.’

He was behind her but still didn’t touch her. ‘Kat, I need to talk to you about something. I’ve asked around, like I promised.’

‘That was only today. You can’t have found out much since then.’

‘I think I’ve found out some information about who gave you the gun.’

She wheeled around. ‘The boy, you mean?’

He nodded. ‘Can I come in?’

She looked at the house. ‘It’s a bit of a state. Inside, I mean.’

‘I don’t mind.’

Kat heaved herself against the door, and the smell of damp assailed her immediately. She looked at Mark, but he was watching her, not the house. She took him into the kitchen. The living room seemed too large and formal.

Really, the kitchen was the worst room in the house. It had been refitted at some point in the eighties, and the tiles were beyond retro kitsch. But, again, he didn’t seem to notice their surroundings. He pulled out a chair from underneath the Formica table and sat down.

‘There aren’t many people you can ask in Bampton about a gun. Take that from me. The ones I know are ex-military. There are a couple of us knocking about, and I can ask them for most things.’

It had come up in therapy sessions – Mark’s support network from men like him who had been in the armed forces. They had formed an informal group to help each other out.

‘And you asked them about the gun?’

‘Yes.’

‘And did you find out anything?’

‘Yes, but they didn’t like talking about it. They wanted to know why I was asking the questions and for who. But it was important to push it because someone had approached one of my mates about getting hold of a gun. A boy. Late teens apparently.’

‘You think it’s the same one who gave me the package?’

Mark shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but it’s got to be a possibility, hasn’t it? No one could give me any better description than the one you gave me. Wore his hood pulled up. Just a pair of brown eyes peeking out from underneath.’

‘Sounds about right. He asked how to get hold of a gun?’

‘Apparently. It didn’t go down well with the lads. For lots of reasons.’

‘Such as?’

Mark picked up the pen lying next to the crossword and started to doodle. ‘For starters, ex-services have a reputation. For being on the edges of society. It’s really not like that. We’re struggling for normality like everyone else. So we don’t appreciate it when a boy looking for something illegal comes knocking on our door.’

‘I’m not sure who I would go to, if I were looking for a weapon.’

He looked at her. ‘You thought of me when you wanted advice on the gun though, didn’t you?’

Kat swallowed her hurt. Was it as simple as that? That he was just someone who was familiar with the thing that had caused so much fear?

‘And, anyway, we’ve also seen the damage caused by guns. You get a few trigger-happy ex-soldiers, but not as many as you might think.’

‘So what was he told?’

Mark smiled. ‘“Bugger off,” basically, but the point was he was asking for something.’

Kat rubbed her aching head. ‘But why? Let’s say this boy had got hold of a weapon for illegal purposes.’ She saw his face. ‘Okay, to kill someone. There are other ways of doing it. Strangling, poison or whatever. Why draw attention to yourself by the business of acquiring a gun?’

‘I’m not sure. Answer that question, and you might be on the way to finding out what’s behind all this. If I were the police, though, I’d be wondering where exactly he got that gun from. It was more like an antique.’

‘Maybe they should be checking the old people’s home.’ It was a feeble joke.

Mark didn’t laugh. ‘Maybe they should.’ His eyes were still on her. ‘But you’re deliberately avoiding the key question.’

‘Which is?’

‘Come on, Kat. What’s all this got to do with your sister? Okay, that boy’s got some questions to answer, but your sister is seriously implicated in all this. You ended up with that gun and he specifically stated he knew Lena.’

‘But it can’t have been an act of guilt,’ protested Kat. ‘Why not give herself up then too? Why give me the gun through an intermediary?’

‘I don’t know. Are you sure there’s nothing you can think of?’

Kat shook her head.

‘Are you sure? What happened in 2004, and Lena’s imprisonment? It’s all going to be connected. She’s lived an extraordinary life. These things don’t happen by chance. Everything’s connected. One thing leads onto another. We might need to go back to 2004.’

‘We?’ She found she couldn’t look him in the eye.

‘You did ask for help, and I’m going to help you. Find your sister and work out what’s going on.’

His reassurance removed some of the fear gripping her stomach, but she was still overwhelmed by the weight of guilt as she considered the offer of help from her former client. She could feel his eyes on her. ‘Why are you helping me?’

He took a step towards her. ‘I’m returning some of the solace you’ve given me. In the only way I know how. With practical help.’

‘It’s definitely not her,’ said Palmer. ‘I’ve just come back from the PM.’

Sadler looked up. ‘Sorry?’

‘The body found down by Fearnley Mill yesterday isn’t Lena Gray.’

‘Bill’s confirmed it?’ He gestured for Palmer to sit down.

‘I think we can safely say that. You should see the measures in place now to check the identity. There’s this huge chart on the wall with a list of cadavers waiting to be autopsied. Then, next to each name, there’s the ID that they’ve been through. Visual, dental, tissue samples and so on.’

‘Doesn’t sound very high-tech. There must be computer files for that.’

‘Of course there are. This is a home-made thing. Looks like Bill’s work. A big whiteboard. It’s as much for him as for anyone else. It’s hit him hard. The misidentification of Andrew Fisher.’

It’s hit us all hard
, thought Sadler.

‘Anyway, the body we found isn’t Lena Gray,’ continued Palmer, ‘which we could tell as soon as the body was turned over at Fearnley Mill. Also, the dental records don’t match. So we’ve a woman’s body, found in Bampton, of approximately the same age and description as Lena Gray.’

‘That’s two deaths within a week.’

‘There’s more. It may well be that the deaths aren’t connected. Bill is doing toxicology tests, but at the moment he’s saying the death doesn’t look suspicious. Her pockets were weighted down with stones for a start. Not that it’s up to him, of course. We’ll have to wait for the Coroner to open the inquest.’

‘Any chance at all of it being foul play?’

Palmer shrugged. ‘Bill is being very cautious but he is one of us. He doesn’t think so and basically told me that.’

‘Do you think the two deaths are unconnected?’ Sadler leant back in his chair.

‘I’m not sure. It does look like a case of suicide. Do you think they are connected?’

‘It’s too much of a coincidence. Do we have an ID then? If it’s not Lena Gray?’

‘Not yet, but if it’s suicide, hopefully it’s only a matter of time. It’s fairly early for someone to be reported missing, although a hostel has called in to say one of the residents didn’t come home last night.’

‘Hostel? Which one?’

‘Shallowford. It’s a women’s home. Offers medium-term accommodation from what I can gather. It’s run by a charity. They don’t seem overly concerned by the woman’s absence, but the policy is to report things immediately.’ Palmer looked down at his notes. ‘The missing woman’s name is Stephanie Alton. I’m going over to check now but I wanted to touch base with you first. So you know that Lena Gray is still officially missing.’

Sadler nodded. ‘There’s something we’re not getting, isn’t there? There’s something bigger going on here. And we haven’t found it yet.’

‘What do you think it is?’

Sadler shrugged. ‘Llewellyn thinks it’s about sex.’

Palmer smirked. ‘Isn’t everything?’

‘Is it?’

His sergeant blushed. ‘Well, it was a joke but sex can often be a catalyst, can’t it?’

‘I suppose so.’ Sadler wasn’t convinced. Was it really all about sex? ‘Go and talk to the hostel. It sounds like Stephanie Alton is a possibility. Give me a call when you’ve got something. Anything.’

Palmer took Connie with him to Shallowford House. She wasn’t her usual sparky self. She seemed subdued and appeared to be thinking things over. As usual, it wasn’t long before he discovered what was on her mind.

‘There’s something really off about this case, you know. It’s all smoke and mirrors.’

Palmer laughed. ‘Sadler thinks it’s all about sex.’

She turned around in her seat to look at him. ‘He said that? I can’t imagine it.’

He glanced down at her. Her eyes were brimming with laughter. ‘Well, it was Llewellyn who said it apparently. Sadler’s not so sure.’

‘I bet.’ She looked like she wanted to say something else but had thought better of it. He watched as she folded her arms and settled back into the passenger seat.

‘But you think it’s about smoke and mirrors?’

He could see her smile out of the corner of his eye. ‘We’re being had. We were had in 2004, and someone’s still playing with us.’

The car stopped at traffic lights, and he turned fully to her. ‘Lena?’

She shrugged and didn’t look at him. ‘Probably. But not definitely.’

‘Kat?’

Again she shrugged, and Palmer turned back to watch the lights in frustration.

She opened her bag and pulled out a metal cylinder. ‘Do you mind?’

He glanced down at what was in her hand. ‘I do, actually. God knows what’s in that stuff. You’d hardly smoke in the car, would you?’

Connie stuffed the e-cigarette back in her bag without comment, but he could feel her eyes on him. ‘You okay?’

Irritated, he put his foot on the accelerator. ‘Of course I’m okay.’

Shallowford House was a modern building, built probably in the 1960s. It was two storeys of glass and hard plastic lines. A sea of blank windows faced them.

Connie turned to him. ‘It’s not very welcoming, is it? These are women fleeing abuse and God knows what else. And they come to this.’

He walked up to the entrance. The reception was empty, although a camera stared down at him, its red light blinking. Connie joined him, puffing slightly. ‘You need to do some exercise,’ he whispered to her and winced in amusement as she jabbed him in the ribs.

Footsteps along the corridor indicated that their arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed. ‘Can I help you?’ The voice was deep and rich. A tall woman with jet-black short hair with a streak of purple across the fringe came into view. She was casually dressed in black jeans and stretchy black jumper. Palmer reached inside his jacket pocket for his warrant card.

The woman held out her hand for it and scrutinised it for a moment. ‘You’re here about Stephanie Alton.’ It wasn’t a question, and her voice had a flat tone.

‘You made a report that she has gone missing. We’re here to follow it up.’

‘Of course. I’m Julia Miles. The manager here.’ She handed Palmer’s card back to him and motioned them to follow her into the office behind reception. Unlike the brutal façade, the room was a welcoming space. It was warm, perhaps overheated on this spring day, and the walls were adorned with pictures of women, children and an assortment of animals.

She offered them chairs but no refreshments and got straight to the point. ‘Although this is a hostel, we have a fairly stable body of residents. It’s a medium-term facility. We can take emergency referrals, under the charitable terms of reference, but Shallowford is for residents who need to stay a few months, or even a year if necessary, while they sort out their domestic difficulties. Therefore, we get to know the people who stay here.’

‘Is it unusual for Stephanie to go missing?’

‘It’s never happened before. Steph has addiction problems but has got on top of them over the past year. We are in the process of assessing her for a transfer to a housing-association flat as part of helping her to move on.’

‘And how did—’ Palmer corrected himself, ‘does Stephanie feel about this?’

The woman opposite frowned. ‘I would have said she’s fine with it. She has family who are unable to stay overnight. A daughter. Mary, I think. And though she’s quite settled here, she misses being with her child.’

‘And you last saw her . . .?’

‘She had lunch yesterday at around midday. Then we noticed she wasn’t around for breakfast this morning. We checked her room, and it didn’t look like her bed had been slept in. So we checked the swipe records.’ She saw Palmer frown. ‘You can’t wander around this building willy-nilly. You need a swipe card to get inside the building from reception although you can leave without the card.’

‘And what did the records say?’ Connie leant forward.

‘Nothing. The records say nothing. As I said, you don’t need to use the card to get out. You just press the release button next to the door. So she must have left the building at some point but didn’t come back. She’s not here. We’ve checked everywhere.’

Palmer wasn’t so sure about this. Police searches in the past had missed some embarrassing discoveries. He wondered how extensive the search had in fact been. ‘The reason we’re here is that a body has been discovered in the water at Fearnley Mill. As yet, the identity of the victim is unknown. Do you have a picture of Stephanie?’

Julia Miles blanched. ‘I must have something.’ She scanned the walls of her office and reached towards a picture of a woman blinking into the sunlight. ‘I think this is the best one.’

Palmer took the snap from her, and Connie leant over next to him. She smelt of hairspray and coffee. The woman in the photograph was a slim woman with long dark hair. He looked to Connie and then at Julia Miles. ‘I think you’re going to have to accompany us to the mortuary.’