Small Town Secrets (Some Very English Murders Book 2) (10 page)

“You do like taking risks, don’t you?” he said.

“Yes,” she said, as decisively as she could. “Don’t forget,
I had a life before I moved up here. I once got lost in Borneo and slept in a
hut with a bunch of people whose language I didn’t even speak, and ate
something that might, or might not, have been actual insects. I’ve argued with
border guards in Russia and wrestled a pickpocket in Mumbai. And I’m none the
worse for any of that.”

After a moment of silence, Drew said, “We must seem very
quiet to you, here in the backwaters of Lincolnshire.”

“Are you kidding? For a start, the person that I used to be
– you know, the pickpocket-wrestling sort of person – she’s gone. I don’t know
what happened. People tell me it’s the menopause or something, but whatever it
was, I don’t seem as assured of myself as I used to be. And secondly, I’ve
travelled the world but I have never, ever been involved in any murder cases. I
come here and bam! I’m stumbling over corpses. They’re practically littering
the place.”

“Why do you suspect Blue or Lee in this?” Drew asked.

“Do you know them?”

“Not really. Lee’s the caretaker at Glenfield Academy, the
high school up past here. Blue, he’s nothing really. One of life’s perpetual
drop-outs.”

“That’s sad. Are either of them in relationships?”

“I don’t really know. Come on, I’m a bloke. We aren’t
supposed to take much notice of that sort of thing, are we?”

“You’re such a sexist dinosaur.”

“I prefer sexy dinosaur.”

Drew’s offhand remark fell into the space between them and
sat there. Penny didn’t know what to say in reply. She didn’t look at Drew,
until he coughed, and said, “Well, anyway. Sorry. That was inappropriate. I’m
also a blithering idiot. Ignore me. As far as I know, Blue is single. Who’d
date him? You’ve met him. He’s not a great catch. And Lee has a couple of kids,
I’ve heard, but they live with their mothers in Lincoln.”

“Mothers, plural?”

“Yes. He was a bit of a lad in his day, was Lee, but the
few times I’ve met him in the pub, he’s been a decent sort of man.”

“The guy in the camera shop … said that Blue and Lee made
their own laws, or something,” Penny said. “He wasn’t warning me about them,
exactly, but …”

“I suppose that’s the urbex stuff. What is the law on
trespassing?”

“We weren’t trespassing last night.”

“How do you know?”

“It was just an air raid shelter.”

“They don’t just exist in the middle of nowhere, you know.
You will have been near a house or something. You will have been on someone’s
land. Everywhere belongs to someone.”

“Oh.” Penny felt a little silly. “They didn’t say.”

“Here comes someone who might know,” Drew said, jumping
down from the table. “Hi, Cath! Now then.”

“Now then, Drew. Penny! They said you would be here.”

“They?”

“Oh, Agatha and some other woman I just got chatting to at
the post office.”

Penny shook her head. “Everyone knows everyone’s business.”

“Except the important stuff,” Cath said. “But we’re making
progress on the Warren Martin case.”

“Oh! So am I. I think.”

“Can we …”

“Yes, of course. I’ll catch you later, Drew.”

“You can’t leave me in all this!” He waved his arms at the
dogs and photographers.

“I’m not in charge, remember,” she said as she walked away.
“Eric is.”

Outside, the sunlight seemed brilliant and Penny fished
around in her bag for a pair of shades.

“Oh, very Jackie O,” Cath teased.

“
Dahhhling.
Anyway, so what’s new?”

“We got access to Warren’s online dating profile,” Cath
told her.

“I’ve had a look too,” Penny said.

“Not the way that our techy boffins can, I’ll bet. We got
into his messages and looked at the history. The company was very understanding.
Well, they got more understanding when we slapped an order on them.”

“I bet he sent out loads of messages,” Penny said. “I’ve
had dozens and they all sound like total creeps.”

“Yes, he did. But believe it or not, he also had a reply.
More than one, as it happens. And he had one ongoing series of conversations
with one particular woman called Clarissa.”

“Good heavens. Really? What was wrong with her?”

“Yes.” Cath was smiling smugly. “And I think you need to
sit down for the next bit. They appear to have gone on an actual date.”

“No. Really? In real life and everything?”

“As far as we can tell, yes. And I spoke with her earlier
and she sounded evasive, but pretty much confirmed it.”

“I’d sound evasive, too, if I’d found myself on a date with
Warren.”

“Well, quite. We’re certainly not reading too much into
that. She was reluctant to come to the station and I didn’t press her. On a
whim, I suggested we meet somewhere in Lincoln for an informal chat. She agreed
to that.”

“Is she a suspect?”

“Not really,” Cath said slowly. “Their date was a few weeks
before he was killed, and they didn’t meet again. I think I’m just groping
towards trying to get an idea of who he really was. It’s hard because you think
you know someone, especially someone who has been a fixture in the community
for so long, but when something like this happens, you realise they were a
mystery all the while.”

“I think I know what you mean,” said Penny. “I’d be
interested to know more about what he was like on that date, too.”

“Great. Because that’s what I’ve come to see you about.
Will you come to meet Clarissa with me, tomorrow? I want to seem less
threatening, and you’re good with people. And I’m hoping a second pair of eyes
and ears will pick up on clues, too.”

“Really?”

“Yup. And … well, her profile was …”

Penny sighed. “What are you not telling me about her,
Cath?”

“I don’t want to prejudice you in advance. No, I’m not
going to tell you. Come with an open mind, and let’s see what you make of it
all. Tomorrow. Meet me at the police station at half past eleven, and we’ll
walk down to see her.”

“You are very annoying.”

“But you’ll come?”

“Of course.”

“She’s late.” Cath folded her arms and her mouth was set in
a line. “I cannot stand lateness.”

“That’s because you are so frighteningly organised,” Penny
said. They were sitting in a quiet corner of a sophisticated café that wasn’t
so much riverside, as actually river-over. The building was a mediaeval bridge
over the River Witham that flowed through Lincoln and the café was inside that
bridge-building, all black wooden beams and waitresses in old-fashioned frilly
caps. It was the oldest mediaeval bridge still with buildings on it in the UK.
Inside the café, it was cool and calm, and oozed genteel refinement. They had a
view through the leaded windows over the main shopping street and to the river below
with its brick banks.

“Of course I am organised,” Cath said. “I’ve got two kids,
a career, a house and a husband to somehow manage. Clean shirts don’t just
happen, you know.”

“I just about coped with a career,” Penny said. “I don’t
know how you do it.”

“Gin.”

“Really?”

Cath laughed. “No. Although scheduling in the odd gin and
tonic while lying in the bath does help. I put my music on very loud and try to
ignore the screaming from the other side of the locked door.”

“How will she find us? This Clarissa?”

“She’ll ask the staff and they know we are waiting for her;
I spoke to them – and here she is, I think.”

Penny sat up straight and as soon as she saw the vision of
elegance that was wafting in their direction, she felt like the dowdiest woman
on the planet.

Clarissa had long, straight black hair that looked as if it
had been ironed. It fell in a swishing curtain, just like it did on shampoo
adverts on the television. She had large beige sunglasses which matched her
cream mules and oversized tote bag. Her tanned skin glowed. Her expression, alas,
did not. She did not crack the slightest hint of a smile as she approached
Penny and Cath, nor did she accept Cath’s outstretched hand to shake.

“Ms Pritchard?” she said, looking from one to the other.
Her accent was unplaceable; she might be local, but have had the Lincolnshire
burr educated out of her.

“Me. Call me Cath, please. Thank you so much for coming. Do
have a seat.”

Clarissa did not sit. She turned her gaze on Penny, and
lowered her sunglasses a fraction. “And who is this?”

“This is Penny May, my friend.”

“Does she work for the police as well?”

“No, she doesn’t. As I said on the phone, this is all
informal.”

Clarissa laughed without feeling or humour. “I don’t
believe a word of that. No doubt you are taping everything I say. Still, this
way is far less of a fuss, I suppose. It does maintain some dignity.” Finally,
she sat down, scraping the chair to one side, obviously keen to put a little
distance between her and the others.

A waitress, a plump young girl with a pink scrubbed face
and nervous hands, came to take their orders. Cath ordered strong black coffee,
and Penny went for a straightforward pot of tea.

Clarissa, however, made the waitress recite their
speciality coffees before sighing about their lack of some “regal blend” or
something, and ordered a skinny latte – Indonesian, apparently – with the air
of someone forced to slum it. As she turned back to Cath and Penny, she removed
her sunglasses fully, and opened her bag.

Penny nearly yelped in surprise as a narrow nose poked out
from the bag. Clarissa ignored it, and instead delved around until she could
retrieve a case for her glasses.

“Is that a dog?” Penny asked, fairly certain that it was,
and horrified at the idea.

“Yes, of course.”

“You’re not allowed to bring dogs in here!” Cath said.

Clarissa shrugged. “Well, they didn’t stop me, did they?”

Penny tried to imagine smuggling Kali anywhere, and pressed
her lips together to hide her smile. You would probably need a tank if you
wanted to hide a Rottweiler. And even then, it would be rocking from side to
side on its tracks.

Cath had clearly decided she was not on duty, and the dog
was not her problem. “Clarissa, can you tell us about Warren Martin?”

Clarissa’s perpetual sneer deepened. “What would you want
to know about him?”

“You are aware that he’s been found murdered. We’re
interested in what sort of man he really was, and we know you corresponded
through the dating site.”

She lifted one shoulder in a tiny, elegant shrug. “That’s
the nature of dating sites, isn’t it? I
corresponded
with many men. Ahh,
the coffee. At last,” she added pointedly, looking the waitress up and down
with distaste. The poor girl blushed furiously and her hand shook as she handed
over the jug of milk for Penny’s tea, and it spilled.

“I’ve got it,” Penny said hastily. “Don’t worry. This is lovely.
Thank you very much.” She wanted to talk over anything nasty that Clarissa was
about to say, and the waitress muttered another apology and retreated quickly.

Cath stirred sugar into her coffee, and asked, “So, what is
it you do for a living, Clarissa?”

“I’m in media,” she said, as if that was somehow an
explanation that everyone understood.

“Full time?”

“Oh heavens, no. Part time.”

“And the rest of your time?”

Clarissa looked at Cath as if she’d asked her a sudden
algebra question. “I spend a lot of time at the gym. I am not the sort of
person who lets things slide.”

Meaning that we are, Penny thought, wanting to stab
Clarissa in the hand with a cake fork. It was lucky for Clarissa that the
cutlery had been tidied away. She said, “May I ask what attracted you to make
contact with Warren?”

Clarissa tapped her long, manicured nails on the side of
her coffee cup, and the rat-a-tat sound set Penny’s teeth on edge. “What you
have to understand about such things is that some people don’t take it very
seriously. That man, unfortunately, presented himself online somewhat …
inaccurately.”

“So how did he present himself?” Cath pressed.

“As I said. Inaccurately. He appeared to be suave and
sophisticated. He talked of cultural things, the opera, eating out. I was misled.
When we went on our date – our
only
date – I soon discovered the truth.
He was simply a sad little man with a dead end job and no life. And a terrible
body. I mean, his whole approach to health was just …” Clarissa trailed off,
shaking her head and shuddering dramatically. “He was a heart attack waiting to
happen anyway. The murderer has just speeded up the inevitable.”

Penny wanted to slap her for those callous words. She drew
a hissing breath in, ready to launch into a rebuke.

Clarissa turned her kohl-rimmed eyes to her and said,
before Penny could get her words out, “And what is it that
you
do? Do
you work?”

“I’ve taken early retirement, but I’m developing my own
arts and crafts business. Penny May Designs.”

“Oh, how sweet.” She turned away, dismissing Penny as
something of no interest.

Penny wanted to shout that she had been someone, once;
someone important and successful in London. But what was the point? She wanted
to be judged as a person, not on her job status.

Clarissa pushed her half-drunk latte away from her and
picked her bag up from the floor. She peeped inside and cooed at her tiny dog,
and pulled out her sunglasses. “I am afraid I’ve told you everything that I
can. I hope you catch the killer soon.”

Penny couldn’t stop herself. “You don’t mean that. You
don’t care one bit what happened to that man.”

Clarissa stood up and hid her eyes behind the large
glasses. “Of course I don’t. I’m simply being polite. But I met the man once
and I didn’t like him one bit. He was not my type, and we didn’t stay in touch.
So if you want the truth, then there it is.” She hoisted her bag to rest in the
crook of her arm.