Indian Summer (3 page)

‘Loving embrace? You were snoring fit to drive a pork butcher wild with delight.'

Surprisingly, she did not cuff him playfully for that teasing comment, simply asked what had happened in the early hours. So he told her of the discovery in the water tank and the curious time gap between the murder and the immersion with the jellyfish wrapped around the corpse's neck. Nora frowned as she sliced bread for the toaster and considered the facts.

‘You need Max here. He's good at working out why a killer needs to make a statement, and this is surely another example of that.'

‘I don't think Max would have any more idea of the symbolism behind this than any of us, at present. What statement can a jellyfish make?'

‘They're deadly. At least, they can be.'

‘Anything that kills is deadly, and the guy had been a corpse for hours before being dropped in the water with that thing twisted around his throat. No, we have to concentrate on the actual killing. Mustn't get sidetracked by what we found last night. Priority is to get the widow to confirm identity.'

‘What a shock to wake up to, just six days after she gets her man safely back from rockets and roadside bombs. You won't give her the gruesome details, will you?'

‘Love, you should know by now they'll be all round the base by sundown. Better to hear the truth from us than the more gruesome version from the neighbours.'

‘Any kids involved?'

‘Two. Both under school age.'

‘Poor little devils having to grow up with that knowledge.' She set about making fresh coffee. ‘A dead man who is symbolically killed again in a tank filled with oceanic illusion. Can't wait to hear what you make of it before Max returns.'

Tom wanted to have solved the case by then, but he was not rash enough to say so. Clare Goodey's estimate of when the murder occurred widened the range of suspects to include German civilians. However, they all left the base in the early evening so, unless someone other than the killer had put the body in the tank, they could be discounted.

Gazing blindly at the cafetière Nora was refilling, Tom considered that premise. It seemed highly unlikely that Keane had been strangled and left lying around for someone else to discover and throw in the water wrapped around with the jellyfish. No, it was surely a non-starter, which then made it almost certain the perpetrator was military. Not only would that lessen the number of suspects it would mean the
Polizei
would not have to become a partner in the investigation. Through determined tact and openness 26 Section maintained a cordial relationship with Klaus Krenkel, the commander of the local German police unit, but when the victim was a British soldier SIB preferred to work solo.

Automatically stretching out his hand for the full mug Nora pushed towards him, Tom concentrated on the slender evidence they had so far. Keane was big and muscular. While it was possible for a normally fit man to transport the body, carry it up to the small diving platform, hook the jellyfish out and tie it tightly before tipping the corpse in the water, it would have taken two women. Or a man and a woman.

Could Brenda of the buttocks still be in the picture? Mrs Keane's first name was Starr – where did parents get these names? – so she had had to live with the kissing butterflies. What kind of woman would be willing to do that? Ah, maybe her real name was Brenda, but she had chosen to be called Starr after a celebrity she admired. He was just deciding to ask his daughters about ‘celebrities' he had never heard of when the phone rang. It was George Maddox with further unsettling news.

‘No one at the Keanes' married quarter, sir. Neighbour heard them rowing on Friday night. Said it sounded so violent she considered calling us. Then it went quiet and she went to bed. I'm concerned about the safety of Starr and the kids. Have they been attacked, too?'

Tom got to his feet. ‘Until they're traced we have to consider that possibility. Set up the usual checks, George. Finding them is top priority now.'

Tom knew they had a task and a half on their hands. Since the abolition of border checks people could pass from one country to another with ease, and Starr Keane could have mingled unnoticed with her children amid the visitors to the Open Day. The
Polizei
would have to be brought in on their disappearance in case they had left yesterday by this means, but a full search within the base must be undertaken in view of Keane's murder. Tom fervently hoped the small family would be found alive and well.

George Maddox and his uniformed staff would organize the combing of those acres within the perimeter fence, while SIB tracked down witnesses who might lead them to the truth of what had happened during a day of fun and relaxed military routine, when a man had been murdered and a woman with two small children had vanished.

Driving back to base Tom faced the fact that he could well have
four
deaths on his hands. Maybe he needed Max here after all.

TWO

T
om called in as many members of 26 Section as were contactable on that Sunday morning. Apart from Staff Sergeant Melly on
UK
leave in hopes of a reunion with his ex, and Sergeant Prentiss, whose wife had gone into labour last night, the entire team had soon assembled at Section Headquarters. They were all keen and widely experienced. Tom knew he and Max were fortunate to have such people under their command.

He issued the known facts, adding, ‘We have to pull out all the stops on this. First we have to establish whether we're dealing with two stand-alone cases, or whether they're linked. At first glance they could be, but until we discover whether Starr and her kids left the base after the row with Keane or whether they're still here we can't be certain of that.

‘The uniformed boys are out searching for bodies. Our job is to trace the movements of Starr and Philip Keane following their violent row overheard by the neighbour. Keane got back from Afghanistan six days ago. After deployment in a warzone it's not unusual for troops to be tense, aggressive and quick to react to confrontation. We're all aware of the tricky few weeks couples have to get through while one partner finds it difficult to shrug off those months of intense combat with only their mates around.

‘In the past few years we've dealt with one or two cases of injury due to loss of control in those circs, but I sense we have something different here. We need to unravel the Keanes' marriage and what makes them both tick.'

Sergeant Derek Beeny, a quiet, thoughtful team member, said, ‘If Keane had been shot, poisoned or bled to death from slashed wrists, the first premise would be that he did for his family then committed suicide, but no way could he then have got in the tank with that thing tied round his neck ten hours later.'

‘Which leaves the premise that Starr Keane killed him and scarpered with the kids,' reasoned his friend Phil Piercey.

‘Then she wouldn't have been here to put him in the tank at midnight,' Heather Johnson pointed out. ‘Almost impossible for a woman to deal with such a dead weight.'

‘And where would the kids have been while she was “killing” him a second time?' added Connie Bush.

‘And why would she want to make that bizarre gesture,' said Beeny reflectively. ‘Strangulation isn't a favoured method for women, and to do it twice is highly unlikely.'

‘And it's
men
who tend to make symbolic gestures after killing,' agreed Piercey.

Tom nodded with satisfaction. ‘So we're left with several options. One: a third party killed off the entire family, hid the bodies of Starr and her children but needed to make some kind of statement with Keane's. Two: as before but someone other than the killer put Keane's body in the tank. Three: Starr killed her husband and scarpered, then someone else decided to metaphorically kill him in the tank.'

‘There's another scenario,' said Piercey.

‘So let's have it,' invited Tom. Although this sergeant often irritated him with his wild notions, the man did sometimes come up with sharp ideas.

‘Keane returned from Afghanistan to learn his wife had been having it off while he'd been away, hence the violent row overheard by the neighbour. So he tops her and the kids. Lover boy finds them, then does for Keane.'

‘So where are the other bodies?' demanded Heather, who always delighted in deflating Piercey.

‘When the uniforms find them, you'll know.'

‘So what's with the jellyfish?' she returned.

Tom looked towards Olly Simpson, who was engaged in his usual doodling. Dedicated to mental puzzles of a cryptic nature, next to Max's this sergeant's mind was sharpest at reading the meaning of symbolic gestures.

Aware of the sudden silence, Simpson glanced up. ‘We can't even make a guess at that until we know more about the Keanes.'

‘That's what we have to start doing,' ruled Tom. ‘For now, I intend to assume we have two separate cases; the murder of Keane and the disappearance of his family.' He indicated Connie Bush, Piercey and Beeny. ‘I want you to concentrate on the latter. Talk to Starr's neighbours, friends and the gate guards who might have noticed her leaving the base sometime on Saturday. She could have German friends in town who she's gone to because Keane threatened her during that heated row.'

He turned to Heather Johnson and Olly Simpson. ‘We three will focus on Keane's murder. Find out how he spent the six days following his return. Interview everyone who saw or spoke to him during that time. One fact: the body wore only underpants, yet Captain Goodey reckons he died around midday. So, was he killed in bed? If not, what happened to the rest of his clothes, and why?'

He spoke generally in winding up. ‘We'll meet here at eighteen hundred to collate our findings. As usual, if you get anything of vital significance, call it in to Jakes who'll stay here to take any info that should be shared to save valuable time. Go to it!'

Sergeant Jakes was happy to stay on duty. He and his Swedish fiancée were planning their wedding and he had been tasked to produce a seating plan for the reception. He had a note from Ingrid stating which of her guests were on no account to be placed anywhere near each other, and another from his mother with similar instructions. He welcomed the chance to get to grips with this almost impossible task.

They all departed, Tom debating whether or not to update Max, who would relish working on this, maybe
these
, cases. However, he had taken fourteen days' overdue leave which Tom guessed would be spent with Livya Cordwell if Max could get the affair back on track. Wait a while, he told himself. There could be a simple solution to the tragedy that had overtaken the Keanes. The case could be wrapped up in a matter of a few days.

Tom drove across the base to the married quarters where he hoped to speak to Sergeant Major Priest of the Royal Cumberland Rifles. He knew Frank Priest only slightly through meeting at several social events in the Sergeants' Mess, and trusted him to give an honest assessment of Philip Keane's personality. Official records gave bald facts; senior
NCO
's were a source of more expansive information.

Drawing up before a house where several small children were having fun with a yellow plastic barrel, Tom approached the neat front garden with a smile. His own girls had had something similar years ago.

‘Hallo,' he said cheerfully. ‘If I wasn't so big I'd ask if I could join in.'

A dark-haired boy of around five years said, ‘You can, if you want to.'

Tom laughed. ‘I don't think I'd better. I might get stuck in it.'

Two little girls fell into giggles, while the other boy in the group demanded to know who he was. Tom gave his name and explained that he was there to see Sergeant Major Priest.

‘Daddy's out the back mending my bike,' said the first boy. ‘You can go down
there
,' he added, pointing to a side path. Then he turned on the giggling girls. ‘If you can't play properly you can go home.'

Another sergeant major in the making, thought Tom as he made his way around the house to where Frank Priest had a child's bicycle upside down with a wheel off and was squatting beside it.

‘Sorry to disturb your Sunday, Frank, but I'd like a word.'

The sinewy man in cut-off jeans and a grubby T-shirt appeared to take several moments to register the identity of his visitor, then he rose and nodded. ‘That grotty business with Flip Keane.'

‘News travels fast.'

The deeply tanned features twisted in disgust. ‘Poor bastard gets topped on his own doorstep after six months out there. Where's the justice in that? You've come to ask who did it? If I knew I'd've sorted the bugger out good and proper by now.'

‘Leave that to us. We'll do it legally. I didn't know Keane so I'd like your input on the kind of guy he was, how he was regarded by B Company, some slant on his private life.'

Priest wiped his brow with a grimy hand then indicated a garden bench. ‘Let's have a beer.' So saying, he went into the kitchen from where Tom heard a short altercation with a woman, ending with Priest saying, ‘Sod the bike!' before coming out with two cans. He handed one to Tom.

‘Problems, Frank?'

Priest yanked back the ring-pull and gulped thirstily. ‘You get back and all you want is to unwind. What d'you get? A long list: see to the leaky tap and the window that won't open, mend the gap in the fence, put up a shelf in the kitchen, get someone to replace the dodgy boiler, sort out the neighbour whose dog barks the whole bloody night. I tell you, Tom, I've had it up to here.' He rested the can against his throat. ‘Now it's “we've got to have a holiday.” Brochures piled up everywhere I go. The Maldives, the Bahamas, Florida – you name it. And it's “I've been stuck here alone for six months worried out of my mind, now I want to enjoy being together. We can leave the kids with Mum and have a second honeymoon.”
A second honeymoon!
They've no idea, have they?'