The Cipher Garden (24 page)

Rounding a bend, he found his way blocked by a farm boy standing in the middle of the road with upraised hand. Behind him plodded a herd of cattle, on their way from one field to another. Daniel breathed out. His reasoning had also run into a jam. How had Chris contrived his alibi? He must have been in the frame for the murder, yet the police hadn’t come close to pinning him to the scene. A bizarre location for a murderer to choose, if there was any degree of planning. Why kill someone in your own back garden? It had to be a crime born of panic, yet that didn’t square with an alibi strong enough to defy intensive scrutiny from a team of detectives under pressure to solve a high-profile crime.

While he waited, he tried Hannah’s number again. Her disembodied voice once more invited him to leave a message; once more he decided not to bother. He fancied setting up another meeting with her to reveal the ingenuity of his theory. If she doused it with cold water, he wouldn’t care. What he wanted most was a fresh excuse to share her company.

He was asking himself what this said about his relationship with Miranda when the last cow trudged through the gate and the boy waved his thanks. Daniel returned his smile. A chance to put his foot down and dodge a mystery even more awkward than Warren Howe’s murder.

‘Did Roz know about you and Chris?’

‘If she did, she never dropped a hint.’

‘And when he left home?’

‘I kept my mouth shut.’ Nick bowed his head. ‘To this day, I’m not sure if that was right or wrong. I didn’t have a clue what had happened to him. There was no reason to believe his past had any bearing on his disappearance. Of course, I couldn’t help wondering. Had he picked someone up in a park or public toilet and been bashed over the head for his pains? Anything was possible. But there was no body. So I hoped against hope that he would come home to Keepsake Cottage.’

‘Which he did.’

‘Eventually. I must say I didn’t buy his explanation for going AWOL. I mean, his music was important to him, and the poor response to his CD must have been disheartening. But vanishing from sight seemed like a massive over-reaction, even if he’d had a nervous breakdown.’

‘Did you talk to him?’

‘Not officially. I wasn’t supposed to discuss the Howe murder with him, but keeping to the rules didn’t prove difficult. Ten days after he came back, he agreed to go out with me for a couple of beers. We went to a pub in Barrow where neither of us were likely to be recognised. Before he’d downed his first half pint of Stella, he was spilling the beans. Poor bastard, he was desperate to talk to someone who might understand.’

‘Which you did?’

Nick nodded. ‘He told me he’d fallen in love for the first time in his life.’

Hannah opened her eyes wide. ‘With?’

‘Oliver Cox’s predecessor as chef at The Heights. A
Scots lad called Jason Goddard, utterly gorgeous if Chris was to be believed. Probably he wasn’t, given that love is blind. And Chris was head over heels, that was for sure. He was willing to give up everything for this kid, he just couldn’t contemplate losing him. It was a mid-life crisis, not really love at all. Wild infatuation would be nearer the mark. There was only one snag.’

‘Don’t tell me,’ Hannah groaned. ‘The devotion wasn’t reciprocated.’

‘Life’s so unfair. Jason was notoriously camp and promiscuous. I heard all this long before I had any idea that Chris had fallen for him. My take is, Jason led Chris on and Chris was more than willing to be led. The trouble was that Jason fancied a bit of fun, not a lifelong union. When Chris started getting heavy and spoke about leaving Roz so the two of them could be together, Jason couldn’t handle it and took fright. There was nothing tying him to the Lake District, so he ran off to London. What he didn’t bargain for was Chris following him.’

‘And the nervous breakdown?’

‘He told the truth about that. Down in London, everything became messy. Chris haunting Jason’s footsteps, Jason threatening to sue Chris for harassment. In the end, Jason lost his cool and resorted to more direct methods. He arranged for a couple of thugs to beat Chris up.’

‘On the day Warren Howe was murdered in his garden back home?’ Hannah shook her head at the irony of it. ‘Because of the attack, no one had a chance of proving he was guilty of murder. Talk about a blessing in disguise.’

Roz Gleave seemed calmer today. Was this because Chris wasn’t around? He had left an hour earlier, she said, on his
way to Lancaster to negotiate with the manager of a folk club. She cast a wary glance at the darkening sky as she led Daniel round the back of Keepsake Cottage, and suggested they make the most of the weather before they were drenched by the thunderstorm the Met Office had threatened. They sat on opposite sides of the teak table at the rear of the house, looking up towards the terrace where Warren Howe had been cut down.

‘Sorry I was so abrupt last time we met. We weren’t in the mood to be hospitable after the terrible news about poor Kirsty. Now, if you don’t mind, I can only spare you ten minutes. I’m expecting a friend to call round for a cup of tea and a chat.’

‘Ten minutes is all I ask.’

‘Were your ears burning yesterday? I was talking about you to Marc Amos. He sang your praises; tells me you’re a valued customer.’

‘Marc’s a friend of yours?’

‘We scarcely know each other. Both of us make a living from books, but in different parts of the market. He sells them second hand; I’m rather keen to make a profit the first time my publications leave the shelves. We don’t get a percentage the second time around. I met Hannah, his partner, the other day. Young for a chief inspector, I thought. Or perhaps that just shows my own advancing years.’

‘It was Marc who told me about the book by Eleanor Sawtell.’

‘So I gather. Any progress with your garden mystery?’

‘A little.’

She looked him in the eye. ‘Marc mentioned you were involved with one of his partner’s cases not so long ago.’

‘Hannah heads the county’s cold case team. I like to think there’s a parallel between her work and historical
research. Not sure I’ve persuaded her, mind.’

‘And you were at the airfield when Kirsty died.’

‘I’d met her at the restaurant the previous day.’

‘Quite a coincidence.’

Time to break cover, Daniel decided. ‘Not really, Roz. Truth is, I’m incurably inquisitive. So I can’t help being intrigued by what I’ve heard about the murder of Warren Howe.’

The temperature was plunging with every word he uttered. She pursed her lips. ‘I see.’

‘Must be painful for you, having the whole business resurrected after all these years.’

‘We could do without it. That was a difficult time for Chris and me.’

‘All the more so because Warren was a former boyfriend?’

‘We went out a few times as kids,’ she snapped. ‘Nothing more. It was buried in the past, it didn’t mean a thing. I was sorry he died such a brutal death, but candidly, I was sorrier still that it happened here. I won’t pretend that I spent much time in mourning. Warren wasn’t a nice man. Not like his daughter. Poor Kirsty.’

‘One thing I’ve learned about history is that things we believed were buried in the past can reach out and poke us in the eye today.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Your relationship with Warren. I hate to be intrusive, but I’ve found out that Oliver Cox is adopted. He told my partner, Miranda, and I couldn’t help wondering…’

Roz Gleave’s face contorted with dismay, bordering on disbelief. ‘He discussed his past with someone he hardly knew?’

‘She’s adopted as well. She was confiding in him.’

‘My God, he always said he would never…’

‘She’s a journalist. Very accomplished at worming information out of people. I’m sure when Oliver told her a little about his own past, he didn’t mean to cause any embarrassment.’

‘Meaning what?’

Daniel said softly, ‘Meaning that I’m sure he didn’t intend anyone to suspect that you might be his mother.’

She put a hand to her mouth and he thought she was going to faint. But when she spoke, it wasn’t to admit that he’d seen through to the truth.

‘Have you taken leave of your senses?’

He’d expected outrage or evasion. Not amazement. It felt like being hosed with cold water. ‘You’re denying it?’

‘You bet I’m bloody well denying it!’ She stood up. ‘You’d better go.’

No one could feign such shock. Her face was reddening, astonishment giving way to anger. And yet he couldn’t imagine that his theory was so wide of the mark.

‘Oliver said that meeting his birth mother changed his life. Until then he’d been a drifter…’

Roz’s hands were on her hips. She nodded towards the path that led around the cottage.

‘Please don’t outstay your welcome, Mr Kind.’

Oh Jesus. He got to his feet. ‘I’m wrong, aren’t I? Oliver isn’t your son.’

She said hoarsely, ‘I’m not able to have children. It’s been a great sadness, but at least I have a marvellous husband. Now – please go.’

Hannah said, ‘You talked to Chris after he came back to the Lakes?’

‘He asked if we could meet. When he heard about the murder, he was overwhelmed by guilt, for having left Roz
to endure the trauma on her own. He was afraid Charlie would find some way of pinning the crime on her, but that was never an option. Her alibi was as unbreakable as his. I wanted to know if he had any idea of who was responsible, but if he had, he wasn’t telling. He hadn’t wished Warren dead, but his only concern was to return a semblance of normality to his life.’

‘So he settled for domestic bliss rather than chasing after unsuitable young men?’

Nick gave her a sharp glance. ‘I’ve never asked if he’s strayed since then, and he hasn’t told me. One thing he did make clear, he didn’t care if Warren’s murder was never solved. I said it would only take a single stroke of luck, and he said he hoped we never got it. Whoever had been driven to such violence must have had good reason to kill Warren. We’d never argued until then. I thought he was wrong to side with the murderer, when the crime had put Roz and everyone in Old Sawrey under the microscope.’

‘The ordeal by innocence?’

‘Yes.’ Nick exhaled. ‘I suppose things were never the same between us afterwards. Since then we’ve not spoken more than once or twice a year. But he promised that he’d never told anyone we’d been lovers. Not even Roz.’

‘Did she know he was gay?’

‘Not according to Chris. Until he explained about Jason, she didn’t have the foggiest.’

‘Did you believe him?’

‘Yes.’ He looked her in the eye. ‘If you told Janice I was gay, she’d never believe you.’

Hannah shrugged. ‘You and Chris, it was a long time ago. You were kids, experimenting. He may have played around since, but…’

‘I haven’t?’ Nick’s face was desolate. ‘That doesn’t mean
I haven’t been tempted. Which is what I’m afraid of, Hannah, if you really want to know. Janice might not have guessed and you might not have guessed. But I know who I am and what’s in my heart and mind. What keeps me awake at night is the fear that I’m living a lie.’

As Daniel walked back to his car, he felt Roz’s eyes boring into his back. She had retreated into her cottage, only to stand at the window of the front room and keep watch, making sure that he didn’t hang around.

For all his hot embarrassment, he didn’t mean to be hurried. There was too much to think over. He unwound the sunroof. The air was heavy, soon there would be the first drops of rain. As he changed the CD, his brain was racing. How could he have made such a mistake?

In the distance, he heard a car engine. Someone was coming to Keepsake Cottage. The friend Roz had mentioned? He glanced back at the house and caught sight of Roz’s face. It was haggard with fear.

He fastened his seatbelt, taking an age over it, wanting to see who visited Roz. Within a minute, his time-wasting was rewarded as Bel Jenner’s BMW glided to a halt alongside his Audi.

She opened her door and treated him to a guileless smile. ‘Hello again. Small world.’

He unbuckled the seatbelt and got out too. The cottage door opened; in a moment Roz would join them and try to shoo him away. But he only had eyes for Bel.

The dark hair, high cheekbones and beaky nose were clues, of course. The resemblance wasn’t obvious, but it was there if you searched hard.

Small world was right. This time he was sure. Oliver Cox was Bel Jenner’s son.

‘Is everything all right?’ Bel asked.

Daniel shook his head. It was as if he’d been kicked in the solar plexus. Speech was beyond him. He needed to take this in.

She doesn’t know. Jesus. She doesn’t have the faintest idea that for years she’s been sleeping with her son.

Bel was a woman who liked things comfortable about her. Pleasant. Very English. She’d used her money to create a secure little world. And she indulged herself with a passionate devotion to the young man who had sought her out and then fallen in love with her. But he had kept secrets from her. He’d understood that she couldn’t cope with the truth.

Daniel heard the door of the cottage open behind him. He spun round to see Roz advancing towards them. Her gaze was focused on him and he could tell that she realised he’d worked it out. She might have been Eve, contemplating the serpent.

‘I asked you to leave.’ Her voice was a croak.

‘What’s wrong?’ Bel asked.

Roz’s breath was coming in short jerky gasps. When she spoke, her voice was stripped of pride. She was begging.

‘Don’t say another word, Mr Kind! Just go!’

‘Nobody else knows, is that right? Just the two of you?’

Roz and Oliver, he meant. She understood and gave a quick nod.

‘How come?’

Roz stood within an arm’s reach of him. Her mouth was clamped shut.

Bel put her hands on her hips. ‘Will someone please tell me what on earth is going on?’

Daniel ground his teeth, his gaze flicking from one woman to the other.

I can’t do it. I’m not the police, it’s not for me to play games with people’s lives. Much as I want to know everything that is to be known. If I push on, it would be like taking an axe to a doll’s house.

He bent towards Roz and murmured, ‘Did Warren know that Bel had fallen pregnant?’

Her eyes were as hard as pebbles. When she whispered in reply, her lips scarcely moved.

‘She told him the baby had died.’

The door closed behind Nick, leaving Hannah alone with the fan, gasping with mechanical emphysema. So many years of friendship and shared gossip, and yet she hadn’t really known her sergeant after all. This affable, laid-back man was quietly torturing himself and she’d never had a clue.

It had taken courage for him to bare his soul to her, but surely he’d read too much into an intense teenage relationship? Schoolgirl crushes of her own had, thank God, faded into the vaguest memories. Nick needed to
liberate himself from the past and look to the future. With Janice.

She checked her mobile for messages. Lauren had called, wanting to know when the latest stats recording the cold case team’s endeavours would be on her desk. And she heard Daniel Kind’s voice, breathless and jerky.

Can you call me? I’ve found out something you need to know.

Hannah’s brain hummed as she turned the last bend and caught a glimpse of The Heights. The restaurant wouldn’t be open for a couple more hours. She took the fork in the drive leading to the house next door. There wasn’t a sign of life at the windows. She hurried up the front path and leaned hard on the bell. No answer.

At the side of the house, a fence separated the back garden from the front. Six feet of willow screen, guarding the privacy of Bel Jenner and Oliver Cox. A gate beneath a wisteria-draped arch barred the way. She tested the handle and found it wasn’t locked. Without a pause, she shoved it open and strode around the side of the house. Daniel was right, she was sure of it. But if they were wrong, it was too late to worry about making a fool of herself.

A white canvas hammock stretched between a pair of beech trees. Oliver Cox lay on it, dozing. In T-shirt and shorts, with bare feet and black hair flopping over his face, he might have passed for a boy. Tall, handsome, innocent. His legs were long and smooth, like Marc’s.

On hearing footsteps, he stirred and looked round. ‘DCI Scarlett. I was expecting Bel. What can I do for you?’

‘Sorry to butt in.’

Oliver yawned and slid off the hammock. ‘You look hot and bothered. I hear you were there at the airfield. Poor
Kirsty. It must have been horrific.’

‘I’ll never forget it.’

‘I can imagine.’

‘Can you?’ Hannah didn’t try to hide her scorn. ‘Will you miss her?’

‘Well, yes.’ A wary expression crept across Oliver’s face. ‘She was a lovely girl. An enthusiastic waitress, keen to learn.’

‘And that’s all?’

‘I don’t know what you want me to say.’

‘Surely she meant something more to you?’

‘She was a sweet kid, all right?’

The heat had sucked out all Hannah’s energy. It was too late for subtlety.

‘She was your sister. Half-sister. You shared the same father.’

‘What?’ Oliver’s features contorted, as if she’d slapped his cheek. ‘Who – who have you been talking to?’

‘I’m right, aren’t I?’

‘You know – about Bel?’

Hannah heard a rustle behind the willow screen, but she didn’t care who might be listening. Presumably it was the Croatian kids who worked in the restaurant; they wouldn’t have a clue what was going on. Bel was still at Keepsake Cottage, according to Daniel, as Roz attempted the impossible and tried to comfort her.

‘You fell in love with your mother.’

After a long pause, Oliver said in a scratchy voice, ‘Sorry if you disapprove.’

‘You misunderstand. What I disapprove of is what you did to your father.’

‘My father, what are you talking about?’

‘Your father, Warren Howe.’

Oliver was breathing hard. Not speaking.

‘I’m right, aren’t I? You found out that he was your father.’

‘So what?’

‘So when Roz Gleave told Kirsty that she was wasting her time with you because you were family, your sister had nothing more to live for.’

‘It wasn’t my fault! Not that she killed herself. That was the last thing I wanted.’

‘And why did she kill herself? Not just the heartbreak, is my guess. She realised that you must have confronted Warren Howe.’

‘What if I did?’

‘Was it like this?’ Hannah watched the muscles of Oliver’s cheeks fluttering beneath the flesh. ‘You approached your father, but he didn’t want to know. He’d spent the years in between believing you were dead, and that suited him fine.’

‘I didn’t need him,’ Oliver whispered.

‘But you did need Bel. The catastrophe came when Warren told you he wanted her, was determined to have her again, come what may. If you didn’t back off, he’d make sure she knew who you were. The shame of what she’d done would destroy her. That’s why you murdered him, isn’t it? Not because your father rejected you, but to save the woman you loved?’

‘Guesswork.’ Oliver was backing away, but he was backing himself into a corner too, in between Hannah and the fence that barred access to the garden from the open countryside. ‘This isn’t detective work. It’s pure imagination. Your colleagues investigated thoroughly. There’s never been any suggestion of evidence linking me with the scene of the crime.’

‘They didn’t know you were Warren’s son, or that Bel was your mother.’

‘Even if they did, nothing could be proved.’

The shaking hands belied the confident words. And yet he was right, wasn’t he? The Crown Prosecutors would demand clear evidence of guilt before authorising a trial. Hannah felt a splash of wet on her cheek, then another on her hair. Rain, at long last rain. As she watched Oliver Cox, unmoving as the raindrops fell faster, she felt overwhelmed by a tidal wave of sadness. Kirsty was dead and soon the lives of Oliver and Bel would be wrecked forever.

A thunderous voice ruptured the silence.

‘Listening to you is all the proof I need.’

Hannah heard footsteps from behind the willow screen. She didn’t need to look to know who was coming.
Oh God, what have I done?

Oliver’s eyes widened in terror. Hannah clenched her fists and looked round. Approaching them was Sam Howe. He must have been working in the restaurant garden, behind the willow screen. Chances were, he’d heard everything. In his hand was a garden fork. Its prongs were pointing at Oliver’s heart.

‘Put it down,’ Hannah said.

‘He killed my father. You know what he fucking did? Threw lilies over the body and a strip of sacking. Murder wasn’t enough, he had to bury him as well.’

Play for time, play for time. The rain was falling faster, Hannah needed to blink it out of his eyes.

‘You loved your father?’

‘He killed my sister too.’

‘Did you bother much with her?’

‘He’s not part of my family.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong.’ Already the rain had
soaked Hannah’s shirt, she might have been back in her bathroom, standing under the shower jet. ‘And you know something? I’d say he’s even inherited his share of the Howes’ ruthlessness. Perhaps that’s why he killed your dad.’

‘You’d better go.’

‘I’m staying.’

‘You’ll get hurt.’

‘I don’t want anyone to get hurt.’

Oliver cried out, ‘For Christ’s sake, what are you going to do – gore me in cold blood?’

‘That’s what you did to him, isn’t it?

‘It wasn’t meant to happen!’

‘Confessing, now?’ Sam showed his teeth. ‘Well, well, you heard that, Mrs Policewoman?’

‘I heard, Sam. Now, why don’t you put that fork down and we can—’

‘Forget it.’ Water was dripping off him, but he didn’t seem aware of it. There was only one thing on his mind. ‘They’ll never prosecute the bastard. That’s what this country has come to. The guilty walk free while decent people live in fear.’

Hannah took a stride towards him, keeping her arm outstretched. ‘Give me the fork.’

‘Think you’re a heroine, do you? Fuck off.’

‘Please, Sam.’

With a swift, fluid movement, Sam Howe twisted the fork upside down and swung the metal handle. It smashed against Hannah’s body. She keeled over on the wet stones, slumping heavily to the ground.

Sam was within two paces of Oliver. The chef had fallen to his knees. His eyes were closed, hands put together as if in prayer.

Sam hissed, ‘What’s that you’re saying?
Our father?
’

Hannah cried out:

‘
No!
’

Sam gave a roar like a wild creature and, as Oliver looked up, thrust the steel prongs into his neck.