The Shroud Maker (18 page)

‘Yes. His office is about a mile away in Didsbury village.’ Her eyes began to fill with tears again. ‘He said he might be away for a few days. He told me it was just a missing persons inquiry. Routine.’

If the inquiry had led to his murder, it couldn’t have been that routine, Wesley thought. But he said nothing. After asking more questions about Eric’s life, he looked at his watch. By the time they’d spoken to Sharon at ED Associates and paid Kassia Graylem’s friend, Lisa a visit, it would be too late for the long drive down to Devon with Julie. They’d spend the night in some convenient hotel then start back in the morning.

When he offered to take Julie back to Devon she nodded gratefully. She didn’t drive, she said, so she’d been worrying about how she was going to get down there. Her friend had offered to have her son, Craig, for as long as necessary so she didn’t have to worry about that.

They promised to pick her up the following morning and took their leave before heading for Didsbury; just a short drive down a wide road of council properties and then a right turn down the road leading to the village. From what he’d gleaned many of the Manchester suburbs seemed to be referred to as villages. Once, long ago in the mists of time, they would have been, only to be devoured by an Industrial Revolution that had swallowed the bucolic settlements like a hungry, smoke-belching giant bringing riches to some and despair to many.

ED Associates’ office was above a delicatessen on the main street. Wesley saw Rachel stop and gaze at the colourful window display. Cheeses he’d never even imagined existed as well as foods from around the globe. He recognised Caribbean spices and ingredients his mother and grandmother used in their cooking. And the smell wafting from the door reminded him of childhood visits to his parents’ native Trinidad, transporting him back for a few short moments to those warm, innocent days.

‘Very cosmopolitan,’ Rachel said, almost in a whisper, as though she feared the natives would overhear and take her for some country bumpkin.

Wesley didn’t answer. In spite of the heavy traffic and diesel-belching buses, this was a pleasant, prosperous suburb. It probably attracted young professionals and academics from the university – people in a hurry – and it reminded Wesley of where he had been brought up in London. And of why he’d chosen to abandon a promising career in the Met’s Art and Antiques Squad to make the move to Devon.

At the side of the shop was a glass door etched with the name ED Associates. When Wesley pressed the entryphone they were buzzed in immediately and they climbed a steep, carpeted staircase to the first floor.

Wesley had somehow imagined that a private investigator’s office would be a little seedy. Perhaps he’d read too much Raymond Chandler in his youth – a literary phase that had followed his early enthusiasm for Sherlock Holmes. However, here he found no smoke-filled shabby office with a Scotch bottle on the desk; just an overweight middle-aged woman with a floral frock, glasses and a motherly manner. When Wesley asked if she was Sharon she smiled pleasantly as she asked if she could help them. And when Wesley told her what had brought them there her mouth fell open in horror.

Sharon invited them to sit and offered coffee, although she looked as if she could do with something stronger. They sat on a pair of tweed-covered office chairs while she fussed with the filter coffee machine, making a meal of it as if she needed something to occupy her hands while her brain raced ahead.

‘I can’t believe he’s dead.’ She sounded stunned. ‘Was it an accident?’ she asked once the coffee was served.

Wesley caught Rachel’s eye. ‘We’re treating his death as suspicious.’

She gasped. ‘No. That can’t be right. He was such a nice man. He hadn’t an enemy in the world.’ Wesley could see tears forming in her eyes. ‘How did he…?’

Wesley knew the facts because Gerry had called earlier to deliver Colin’s verdict. It was just a case of phrasing it tactfully. ‘He was found in a swimming pool at a holiday park near Tradmouth in South Devon. It appears that he was stunned then he fell into the water and drowned. He was staying in a chalet at the holiday park.’

‘Yes. I found it for him on the internet. It was the only accommodation available. There’s some sort of festival on, I believe.’

Sharon stood up and walked over to the filing cabinet. Her bulk meant that she didn’t move fast. She drew out a file and as she passed it to Wesley, he saw that her hands were shaking.

He opened it and saw a photograph of a girl he recognised immediately as a younger Kassia Graylem and his heart lurched. He showed the photograph to Rachel and saw her raise her eyebrows.

‘Her name’s Kassia Graylem and after her parents died she went to live with her grandmother for a while until she went to study down South. She dropped out of university and there was some sort of argument and they lost touch. Her grandmother discovered that Kassia had moved down to Devon but she didn’t know her address so she hired Eric to find her.’

‘How did she find out about Devon?’

‘I think she met a friend of hers who told her she’d moved there.’

‘Is this friend’s name Lisa, by any chance?’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know. Eric had all the details of the case with him. He always keeps his notes and all that in his old briefcase. You’ll find everything in there.’

‘His briefcase is missing.’

Sharon shook her head, as though she couldn’t quite believe it.

‘You’ve no idea what was in the briefcase? You don’t keep copies of documents in the office?’

‘That’s not how Eric likes… liked to work.’ She thought for a moment. ‘He would have had all the notes he’d taken during his interview with Mrs West – that’s the missing girl’s grandmother – and a copy of the photograph she gave him along with any notes he made about his findings. I’m sorry, I don’t know exactly. Eric kept things close to his chest while he was working on a case – until it was time for me to type up the final report. And the invoice, of course. But he did call to say he’d managed to locate the girl and that he was staying on in Devon for a few more days. He didn’t say why.’

There was something Wesley had been dying to ask. ‘He was wearing a suit when he was found. Did he by any chance mention that he’d arranged a meeting or…’

‘Eric always wore a suit when he was working. He said it made him feel professional. It was just one of his things.’ Sharon smiled fondly. ‘Casual clothes make for casual minds, he used to say. He was old-fashioned in some ways but that’s not necessarily a bad thing, is it. He was always a gentleman.’

‘I’m sure he was,’ said Wesley. The tears had begun to roll down Sharon’s full, flushed cheeks and she dabbed at them with a crumpled tissue.

‘Where does Kassia’s grandmother live?’

‘Not far from here.’

‘Can we have the address?’

‘Of course.’ Sharon delved into the file and passed them a sheet of paper bearing a neatly typed address. Wesley thanked her and asked if there was anything else she could tell them, however trivial it seemed.

She thought for a while before replying. ‘Mrs West was quite anxious to be reconciled with her granddaughter. Perhaps you can help her find Kassia now that Eric’s…’

Wesley caught Rachel’s eye, wondering whether to tell Sharon the truth about Kassia’s death. But he decided against it for now. Sharon had had enough shocks for one day.

‘How’s Julie?’ Sharon said suddenly.

‘As you’d expect,’ said Rachel. ‘We’re taking her down to Devon tomorrow to make a formal identification of her husband’s body.’

Wesley expected a pious comment, an expression of sympathy for the boss’s widow. But instead Sharon made a harrumphing sound and looked away.

‘I think she’s jealous,’ Rachel said as they left, letting themselves out of the glass door into the street.

‘You mean she fancied Eric Darwell?’

‘I reckon it’s a classic case of the secretary having the hots for the boss. He probably didn’t reciprocate though – not if he was such a gentleman.’ She smiled and Wesley was glad she’d lightened the mood. ‘Where to now?’

‘We’ll have a word with Kassia Graylem’s friend Lisa first. See what she has to say.’

He took the
A to Z
he’d brought with him from his pocket and opened it at the appropriate page. He found Lisa’s address and calculated that it was only five minutes’ walk away. ‘Kassia’s an enigma and we need to find out more about her,’ he said. ‘All we know about her past is that her parents are dead, she lived with her grandmother for a while then she dropped out of university and ended up in South Devon.’

‘You think she was running away from someone or something?’

‘Jenny Bercival was involved with a controlling man, according to her cousin. And she and Kassia had the same tattoo. It’s possible that they were both killed by the same man. This William maybe?’

Rachel’s eyes lit up. ‘And don’t forget those letters you found in Kassia’s room. If she was being threatened maybe Jenny was too.’

They’d rung ahead and when they arrived at Lisa’s small red-brick terraced house in a narrow side street she was waiting for them. She was a pretty young black woman who wore her straightened hair long, and as she invited them in she gave Wesley a nervous smile.

Wesley assumed that Lisa didn’t know about Kassia’s murder so it was up to him to break the news. He had expected her to be shocked; to cry or to react with stunned disbelief. He was surprised when she seemed angry.

‘I warned her about him. I bloody warned her. When you find him I hope you’ll lock him up for good.’

Sacha Vale was every bit as glamorous in the flesh as she was on the TV screen and Dave appeared to be awestruck at being in the company of a celebrity. Neil, however, was determined to treat her like any other colleague. She might pout and order the other diggers about but he wasn’t impressed. In his opinion, she wasn’t the best forensic anthropologist he’d worked with. His old colleague Margaret was much more thorough. And Margaret didn’t have an attitude that got up his nose. He said as much to Dave when they were alone but Dave jokingly accused him of being jealous. Sacha had the attention, and she was paid more money for her TV appearances in a year than most archaeologists could expect to earn in ten. As well as that, the media hung on her every word. What was there to be jealous of?

They’d excavated around the bones, dislodging them from the earth with a leaf trowel, then Neil had lifted them carefully while Dave and some of the others had begun to extend the trench.

He watched as Sacha examined the bones they’d already found, her russet hair hidden beneath the hood of her protective white suit. After several minutes she looked up at him, a challenge in her wide blue eyes. ‘Adult female. Possibly in her twenties. No dental work. It looks as if she’s been in there a long time but sometimes conditions can…’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘I’ll be able to examine the bones more closely in the lab but there are signs of staining on the skull that might suggest asphyxiation. As to when she died, I’ll need to take samples for dating. And I’ll take a tooth so we can pin down where she grew up.’

She stood up and once she’d walked away from the trench she took down the hood and shook her tresses loose like a model in a shampoo advert.

‘Any chance she could be a recent murder victim?’

‘Did you find any dating evidence in the trench?’

‘The ground’s been disturbed at some point but that might have been done when the bungalow was built. There are other areas of disturbance too, probably where services have gone in over the years.’ It pained him to admit it, but he hadn’t a clue.

He heard Dave calling his name just as the gate creaked and then crashed shut. When he looked round he saw Chris Butcher standing there, his eyes fixed on Sacha, devouring her. He saw her give a nervous half-smile. It was hard to tell whether the pair knew each other but if they didn’t Neil guessed that Butcher would soon rectify the situation. He watched as Butcher led her to one side and began to speak to her, too softly to be overheard, and he could see that her cheeks had reddened a little. If Astrid had come in at that moment, Neil thought, she definitely wouldn’t have been pleased.

Dave called his name again with a hint of impatience and Neil hurried over to join him.

‘Think Butcher’s starstruck or what?’ he said quietly when he reached the extended section of the trench where Dave was standing, gazing at the ground. When he didn’t answer Neil noticed that the other diggers were staring at the same spot. Neil looked down and saw why. The unmistakable orb of a human skull was starting to emerge.

‘Looks like we’ve found another one,’ Dave said.

Wesley saw Rachel listening attentively as though she feared any slight movement would break the spell and render Lisa silent.