BACK IN THE POLICE STATION, VERA shouted Joe and Holly into her cramped office to sort out the detailed plans for the day. She’d made coffee for them. That didn’t happen very often. Outside, it was market day and she could hear the traders shouting jokes to the passing shoppers. Everything seemed vibrant and alive. There was something joyous about the activity, the bustle.
It hit her suddenly that apart from Eliza, all the suspects in this case were ageing. Death was a reality to them in a way that it wasn’t for younger people, including Joe, for example, who sat across the desk from her now and was wittering about planning a holiday with his family. She supposed that older people made fewer plans. They had less time to fill, no endless possibilities stretching into the future. Could this be important for the way this case worked out? If so, as an older woman herself, she had no excuse for getting it wrong.
‘Chase up the digital team again,’ she said. ‘I want whatever was on Rick Kelsall’s laptop. Most especially a novel about a murder on Holy Island.’
‘I’ve already asked them,’ Holly said. ‘They say all his files had been deleted. They’re struggling to recover them. They’ll be able to do it, but possibly not by end of play today.’
‘Are they saying the killer could have deleted everything on his laptop?’ This was new information. She was about to rage against Holly for not telling her sooner, then realized that would be unfair. She’d only just returned to the station from her jaunt to talk to Willmore.
‘I think it’s a possibility.’
‘Wouldn’t they need a passcode?’ Vera was getting better at tech, but she was still unsure. ‘If they were going in to delete all his files?’
‘Perhaps,’ Holly said. ‘Unless Kelsall was using his laptop when he was killed. Or he’d closed it without turning it off. In that case, you’d just need to click to sign in again.’
‘We need to talk again to that group from the Pilgrims’ House.’ Vera leaned forward across the desk to make her point. ‘If Charlotte Thomas’s murder isn’t some sort of coincidence – and I really can’t believe that it is – then we have to consider all those individuals as suspects in the second killing too.’
‘You really think one of those people came into Charlotte’s yoga studio and smothered her?’ Joe obviously found the idea impossible. Did he think all elderly people were benign, harmless? Vera smiled at the notion. Hector, her father, had been cruel into his eighties. And even with the dementia of alcoholism, he’d raged against death, fought it as if he were one of his beloved peregrines ripping into a pigeon with talon and beak. Hector had died just as he’d lived: angry at the world which had deprived him of Vera’s mother, the only person he’d ever loved.
‘I don’t think we can dismiss them,’ Vera said. ‘It might seem improbable, but surely not as improbable as two random killers targeting victims who knew each other, who’d been to school together and had recently met up.’ She paused. ‘The killer must have known where Charlotte would be. So, a client perhaps?’
‘Judith Marshall had used her yoga classes,’ Joe said. ‘She described Charlotte as empathetic.’
‘The teacher? She’ll be worth talking to then. Another link.’
Outside, a busker started singing. Something sweet and lyrical about teenage love.
‘Joe, you’ve already built a relationship with Louisa and Ken Hampton,’ Vera went on. ‘Go and see them. Louisa’s a smart woman and she might be more prepared to talk about the others if you can get them on their own. It was her sister who died at the first reunion, after all. I know the focus has shifted to Eliza Willmore and the harassment allegations, but I still have a feeling that Isobel Hall’s death wasn’t a straightforward accident. Rick Kelsall’s novel makes it more significant, doesn’t it?’
‘I suppose that makes sense.’
‘Find out where they were yesterday afternoon.’ Vera paused. ‘I can’t see Ken having a clue where he’d find Charlotte’s yoga studio, let alone knowing how to kill her, but Louisa strikes me as ruthless, organized. We know there was no love lost between her and her sister. I wonder if Isobel’s accident was some sort of prank that went wrong. Could Louisa have given her the wrong tide times in the hope that she’d be stranded, embarrassed? She wouldn’t want that to come out after all this time.’ She grinned. ‘Besides, a trip to Cumbria will do you good. It might widen your horizons.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’
‘I’ll have a chat to Annie Laidler. It seems to me that she was closer to Rick Kelsall than anyone.’
‘Now that Charlotte’s dead,’ Holly said, ‘will Annie inherit all the money from the sale of the Kelsall house in Kimmerston?’
Vera didn’t answer immediately. The busker changed tunes. This was louder, angrier. Some sort of protest song.
‘Good point, Hol. I’ll have to check with the lawyer.’ But Vera couldn’t see profit as a motive for Annie. She’d cared for Rick since they’d been teenagers together. Perhaps she’d even been in love with him all that time, despite his decades of chasing other women.
‘What about Philip Robson?’
‘Ah, the God-bothering Phil, who’s still in a holiday cottage on Holy Island. Let me think about him. Perhaps you’re right, Hol, and I’ve dismissed him too easily.’
When Vera got to the deli, she filled a basket with goodies. It was about time she contributed something when she next went to visit Jack and Joanna. The smell in the shop almost made her faint with desire. When she reached the till, Vera asked Jax for Annie. ‘Is she on her break?’
‘Nah,’ Jax said. ‘She phoned in sick this morning. Hardly surprising, the shock that she had at the weekend. I wasn’t really expecting her in yesterday.’
‘But she came into work?’
‘Yeah, she wasn’t really herself, but she was here.’ Jax paused. ‘Her ex came to see her, took her out for coffee. To offer his support, he claimed. A bit late for that, I’d have said.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s not really my story to tell. They lost a baby and she still hasn’t got over it, even after all these years. I suspect he could have been a tad more sympathetic at the time.’ Jax raised her eyebrows, an expression of disapproval. ‘No, that’s being kind. He could have been a lot more sympathetic.’
In the queue behind Vera, the customers were starting to get restive.
‘Look,’ Jax said. ‘Like I said, not my story. You’ll need to ask Annie for the details. If you think it’s important. But it happened years ago!’
Vera thought that everything important to this case had happened years ago. She asked Jax to remind her of Annie’s address, paid for her shopping and left.
Annie lived in a narrow, terraced house. The street had been built on a slope, and there were communal gardens across a paved path, where a mother was playing with a toddler, a little girl pushing a toy pram. Because of the slope, steps led up to the front door. There was a cat sitting on the windowsill in the autumn sunshine. Annie didn’t seem surprised to see Vera, had perhaps been waiting for her.
‘Jax told you I was on my way?’ Because that was what any friend would do.
‘She did.’ Annie looked as if she hadn’t slept for days. ‘Come in.’ The cat slid in with Vera.
Annie had knocked through the whole of the ground floor into one space, so the sunlight flooded into what must once have been a very dark house. There was art on the walls and shelves full of books.
‘Well, this is lovely.’ Vera couldn’t imagine putting this much effort into somewhere to live. She’d never really bothered about her immediate surroundings, though she’d always needed outside space. A long horizon. A place to breathe.
‘It was all rather gloomy when I moved in.’ Annie seemed pleased with the response. ‘Coffee?’
‘No thanks, pet, I’m awash with the stuff. I’ve just got a few more questions.’ She sat on the sofa. There was a small wood burner, lit, giving out enough heat to make the room cosy.
‘You’ll have heard that Charlotte Thomas was killed yesterday.’
Annie nodded. She sat on the floor close to the stove, with her back to an easy chair. Her normal position in the room.
‘Only it seems a coincidence,’ Vera said. ‘Two Kimmerston Grammar former pupils, murdered within a week of each other. You do understand why I need to speak to you?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Give me a clue.’ Vera had to make an effort to stay sharp. She liked Annie, and in this comfortable room she felt more like a friend than a police officer. Relaxed, easy. ‘Tell me a story which would make sense of it all.’
‘I can’t!’ Annie said. ‘Honestly, I’ve been awake all night, thinking about it.’
‘Is there anything to link Charlotte Thomas’s death with Rick Kelsall’s? Apart from the fact that they were once married. Why would anyone want them both dead now?’
‘Really,’ Annie said. ‘I don’t have any idea.’
‘Money’s always a very potent motive.’ Vera shot a glance at Annie, who just looked confused. ‘Has Mr Kelsall’s solicitor been in touch with you?’
She shook her head.
‘Rick left you money in his will. A half share in the proceeds from the sale of his parents’ house. The other half was to go to Charlotte. Now that she’s dead, I’m presuming you cop for the lot.’
‘You really think I’d kill for money?’ Annie shook her head in apparent disbelief.
‘What will you do with it? Retire?’
‘God no! What would I do all day? Jax has dreams for the business. She’d love to open a restaurant. Something relaxed and unpretentious but with brilliant food. Maybe I can make that happen.’ The idea seemed to cheer her.
‘Did you know that your ex is shacked up with our Police and Crime Commissioner?’
‘I’d heard.’
Of course you had. People would have been rushing to tell you.
‘Her daughter is the lass Rick was supposed to have abused.’
‘He wouldn’t have done that.’ Her voice was stubborn, immovable.
‘Did you know she was the apparent victim? Her name’s Eliza. A bonny little thing. Daniel dotes on her apparently.’
A shadow of pain flashed across Annie’s face. Vera thought that had been cruel. The woman had lost a daughter.
‘No, I didn’t know. Rick could be discreet about some things.’
‘Rick was at Daniel’s place on Friday morning before he went over to the island. Though both Katherine and Daniel lied about that when I first asked about Kelsall. According to the girl’s mother, they were putting together a statement to the press, which would have made them both come out of this smelling of roses.’ A pause. ‘I can’t see that happening now.’
‘So now everyone will remember Rick as a sexist bully! Because the girl lied to the media.’
Vera supposed that was true. It wasn’t much of a legacy. ‘Yes, he died before he could put his name to the statement which would have implied both he and Eliza had been victims of the press. It’s almost as if someone didn’t want him cleared…’
She allowed her voice to tail off, hoping that Annie might suggest a possible answer, but the woman remained silent.
‘Where were you on Monday?’ Vera made no attempt to hide the reason behind the question.
‘I was at work.’
‘All day?’
‘I started at eight and finished at four.’
‘We’re still trying to trace Charlotte’s movements, but we’re pretty sure she was killed after four. She was in her yoga studio. It’s hardly any distance from the deli.’
‘I came straight home after my shift.’
‘Can anyone confirm that?’
‘No! I live alone. How could they?’
‘These are tight little houses. Someone might have heard the cistern fill while you were running a bath, been aware of you moving about.’
‘There’s a deaf old man on one side and a single mother with a teething baby on the other, so they’re hardly likely to have noticed!’ Annie was starting to get rattled.
Vera didn’t mind that. The woman might lose control and let things slip out.
‘Jax said Daniel came to see you yesterday. I visited him on the way back from the island on Sunday. Very flash place he’s got at the tower.’
‘I wouldn’t know.’ Annie was spitting out the words now. ‘I’ve never been in the new house. When I lived there, we were in a shitty caravan.’
‘But he did come to see you in Kimmerston yesterday. You and Daniel must still be friendly, if he came all the way from Rede’s Tower to offer his support.’
‘I doubt if that was the only reason for him turning up in town.’
‘Ah yes, he had a planning meeting apparently. We’re checking that out too. Did he say where he was going, once he’d left you?’
Annie shook her head. ‘We weren’t together very long. Just went out for a coffee. It was kind of him, I suppose.’
‘No hard feelings then, about the divorce?’
‘We married too early,’ Annie said. ‘That was all. I was infatuated. I adored him. He wasn’t quite as smitten. We both worked to make a go at it, but we grew up in different ways.’
‘Why the rush to get married?’ Vera was interested. That curiosity again, making her pry. ‘I know there was a bairn, but even that long ago, marriage wasn’t compulsory if you found yourself pregnant.’
‘Really, we’d been a couple since school. Settled, I thought. Marriage seemed a logical step.’ A pause. ‘I thought we’d be together forever.’
‘What happened to the baby?’
‘You’ve been speaking to Jax. I’m sure she’ll have told you.’ The bitterness was back in her voice.
‘Nah, pet. She said it was your story to tell.’
‘She was called Freya. She died at four months. An unexplained death they called it. Your people came in, not accusing me of murder. Not in so many words. But implying it. Perhaps that’s why I understand what Rick was going through. I know what it’s like: people talking about you behind your back, believing the rumours. Not that I cared then. I didn’t care about anything except losing my baby. And the guilt. I knew I didn’t mean to kill her, but I must have done something wrong, mustn’t I? Because babies don’t just die, do they? You don’t just wake up in the morning and find them dead. It had to be my fault.’
‘Sometimes.’ Vera’s voice was gentle, like a whisper. ‘Sometimes folk do just die. That’s why we call the deaths unexplained. And that’s the worst experience ever for the people left behind.’
‘They did find a cause. Infant meningitis. Everyone thought that should make me feel better about myself. Honestly, though, it didn’t help. Because I should have noticed she was ill. I should have done something. But it was our wedding night. A party. I’d drunk champagne. My mother had offered to take her for the night, but I wanted her to stay with us. If I hadn’t done that, she might be alive. She’d be middle-aged. With children of her own. Even grandbairns if she’d been like me and got started early.’
‘You know, pet, you can’t live like that. The guilt will ruin you.’
‘I know,’ Annie said. ‘It already has.’
There was a moment of silence. Annie opened the stove, using a glove on the hearth so her hand wouldn’t burn and she threw in a log.
‘Daniel didn’t feel the same way?’
‘Daniel just thought we should go ahead and have another child. As soon as possible. He never said, but I could tell he thought I was morbid. Self-indulgent. He found my grief boring. He did say that he wanted a life.’
‘You never had another baby?’
Annie shook her head. ‘I couldn’t face it. What if we lost her or him too? Besides, it would have seemed as if we didn’t care about Freya. As if a replacement would do just as well.’
Vera thought she could understand Daniel’s desire to move on. Annie was still haunted by guilt after more than forty years. She couldn’t have been an easy woman to live with. Katherine Willmore, with her ambition and her principles, would have seemed uncomplicated in comparison.
‘He knew how close you were to Rick,’ Vera said. ‘He understood how another apparently unexplained death would affect you. That showed some sensitivity.’
‘I know!’ Now Annie just seemed exhausted, as if all the emotion had drained away from her. ‘He was never insensitive. Not really. He was just able to move on more quickly than I could and I resented it. I was jealous, I think, that he seemed to find it easier to do.’
‘He was there at the first reunion, the weekend that Isobel died in the car crash?’
‘Yeah, the one and only time!’ Annie gave a little smile. ‘It was okay though. He really made the effort to get on with people.’
‘Has he kept in touch with any of that group? Perhaps some of them were friends in their own right, not just through you?’
Annie shook her head. ‘He was always different from the rest of us. Sporty. Practical. More into football than talking.’
‘Yet he talked Rick Kelsall into giving his woman’s daughter a job.’
‘I don’t know anything about that. Perhaps he wanted to impress Katherine Willmore that he had friends in high places too.’ Annie’s voice was hard, bitter.
Vera paused for a moment. After all, perhaps she’d have to trawl back through past relationships, past events. ‘How did Daniel end up at the Pilgrims’ House in the first place, if it wasn’t his thing? That Only Connect weekend was voluntary, wasn’t it?’
Annie turned away. Vera thought her cheeks were flushed and not because of the heat. The woman was blushing!
‘Because of you! It was his chance of getting off with you!’
‘Aye.’ Annie turned back, shyly. ‘Something like that.’
‘Did you know Rick was writing a novel?’
The change in tone seemed to shock Annie and she stared at Vera. ‘No.’
‘But he was talking about it, that night in the Pilgrims’ House. Not long before he died.’
‘He was talking a lot,’ Annie said. ‘He always did when he was drunk. I must have zoned out.’
‘He was very excited about it apparently. It’s set in Holy Island. Based on real events. I wondered if that could give us some kind of motive for his death. He might be planning to wake dogs that the killer wanted to let lie.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Annie gave a little shake of her head. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Vera couldn’t quite accept that Rick wouldn’t have confided in Annie about his book. Even if she hadn’t listened when he’d talked about it in general terms to the group, he would have discussed it with her. Probably in more detail. Annie had been his admirer and his support since he was a boy. His validation. Surely he’d have wanted to share his excitement with her. But Vera could tell this wasn’t the time to push it. Reluctantly, she got up from the comfortable sofa, and stood for a moment in the pleasant sunlit room.
She reached into her bag and took out the photograph of the group taken at the first Only Connect weekend. ‘I thought you’d like this back. Thanks for lending it to us.’
Annie took it. ‘It seems such a very long time ago.’
‘If you think of anything that might help, do get in touch with me. Okay?’
Annie scooped the cat into her arms, cradled it and nodded.
Outside, the toddler was still playing. Vera checked her phone. There was a message from Ashworth to tell her he’d made an appointment to see Louisa and Ken and was heading out now. And giving the Holy Island crossing times for the following day if she wanted to talk to Phil Robson, so she wouldn’t have to check for herself. Vera gave a self-satisfied smile as she walked back to the car. She’d trained her boy well.