Simmy and Helen Harkness sat with their coffee at a table set on the pavement. They were within sight of most of the centre of Hawkshead, watching people come and go, a majority of them wearing hefty backpacks and carrying sticks. ‘I never saw much point in walking for its own sake,’ Simmy remarked.
‘It’s addictive. I did it obsessively in my twenties, all the Wainwright stuff. It was exhilarating. I learnt my way around, at the same time. I could go on Mastermind specialising in Cumbrian villages.’
‘And have you passed it all on to your kids?’
‘You mean Ben? A lot of it, yes. I took them up all the fells when they were little. The girls never liked it much, and Wilf got sick of their complaining. Ben was the keenest by miles. He and I did an epic hike from Bassenthwaite to Ulverston when he was fifteen. He must have told you about it.’
‘Not that I can recall. How far is it?’
‘About sixty miles, I think. We took it slowly over four days, and spent the nights in a tent. It was amazing. I’ll never forget it.’ Simmy watched as the present reality returned to Ben’s mother’s awareness and tears filled her eyes. ‘He’s my special one. I don’t suppose I need to tell you that.’
‘He is very special,’ said Simmy, with a sniff. ‘We’ve absolutely got to find him.’
‘We won’t do it sitting here, will we?’ Helen had her mobile on the table beside her. She fingered it thoughtfully. ‘There must be somebody we can call,’ she said. ‘Isn’t there always somebody these days?’
‘Like who?’ Simmy stared at her uncomprehendingly. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Bonnie. Melanie. Even the Moxon man. Just to find out the latest news. I feel as if we’re in a void, knowing nothing.’
‘You could try Bonnie, if you’ve got her number. I have a feeling Melanie won’t be much use.’
‘Why not?’
‘The man who was killed – she was going out with him. Or at least, staying overnight in his room. I think she was getting very fond of him.’ Simmy thought again of Melanie’s tears at the sight of Dan’s body. It now seemed to be a matter of urgency to check how she was today. ‘I feel bad about it, taking her down there where we found him.’
‘You couldn’t have known. You were looking for Ben, if I’ve got it right.’
‘Yes, but Ben’s message said there was a body. I should have thought before letting her go with me. Melanie’s very young, and actually quite naïve in some ways.’
‘You’re joking. That girl’s the most streetwise I ever met.’
‘Maybe she is by Windermere standards, but that’s not saying much, is it? Through all the things that have happened since last autumn, she’s been at a distance. This is the first time she’s been faced with anything really horrible. But of course we had no idea it was Dan who was dead – and I never dreamt she loved him, either.’
Helen shook her head impatiently. ‘It’s too late to worry about him. And Melanie will get over it.’
Simmy had initially felt glad to have the company of an older woman, as a change from the youngsters she habitually mixed with. Now she was less sure she liked it. Bonnie and Ben and Melanie were so clear-sighted and definite about everything. Their freshness and zeal were invigorating. Helen Harkness was none of these things, and although Simmy knew it was very unfair to judge her in this time of wild anxiety, she was finding the morning increasingly depressing. Everything she said seemed to be dismissed or belittled.
‘What do we do now, then?’ she asked with a sense of defeat.
‘Well, look who it isn’t!’ came a voice from the pavement. ‘Fancy meeting you here.’
They both turned to see Corinne standing there, hands on her hips, hair all over the place. Here was another older woman, Simmy thought glumly. Corinne had to be in her mid forties at least, despite the multiple piercings and long skirt. Corinne ignored any suggestions of respectability or obligation to conform, not entirely unlike Simmy’s own mother. Her girlishness was alternately appealing and irritating. Her opening remark was firmly in the latter category.
‘I expect we’re here for the same reason that you are,’ said Simmy rather sharply.
‘Yeah. Hi, Helen. This is all a real bugger, isn’t it? Bonnie made me drive her up here, so she can get on with searching for your boy.’
Simmy looked down the little street. ‘So where is she?’
‘First Colthouse, then the hotel, so she says. Got some idea in her head. Those two – they were like twins, with their own secret language. I had a pair once, for a few months. Jabbered away in gibberish, obviously understanding each other perfectly. Made me feel a bit weird, to tell you the truth.’
‘At the hotel?’ Simmy stared. ‘On her own?’
‘She’ll be fine,’ Corinne said, taking a chair from another table and sitting down. ‘Bonnie’s always fine.’
‘That’s what we thought about Ben,’ said Helen. ‘But there’s some dreadful people out there, capable of killing. I don’t know how you can say Bonnie’s fine, or how you can let her just go off on her own.’
‘Don’t give me that,’ Corinne flashed angrily. ‘Besides, who are you to talk?’
Simmy watched them both as they realised how foolish and damaging such an exchange was. They both grimaced and then slumped in their chairs. ‘Sorry,’ said Corinne. ‘That was way out of order.’
‘She’s got her phone, obviously,’ said Simmy.
‘And she’s already called me once. I’m to meet her in the car park in a bit. Where are you parked?’
‘I left it out by the campsite,’ said Helen. ‘We walked in from there. This place is lovely, isn’t it? You think it’s a warren, at first, and you’ll never find anywhere – then you look again, and it’s absolutely tiny. The whole village is right here before your very eyes.’
‘Shame about that bookshop,’ said Corinne, eyeing the large, empty building. ‘Right in the middle of town like that. Makes it look depressing.’
‘Too big for most businesses,’ said Simmy, with an air of knowing all about shops and premises. ‘You’d need good turnover to cover the rent.’
‘It’s been like that for two years or more,’ said Helen. ‘Somebody must be losing money on it.’ Her architect’s eye roamed over the big, square edifice, clearly speculating on how it might be brought back to life. ‘You could make a flat on the top floor, for a start.’
‘Don’t!’ moaned Simmy. ‘That’s what Bonnie keeps saying about the upper floor of my shop. I’ve started keeping things up there, to show her I need it for storage … Do you want coffee?’ she asked Corinne. ‘Because we were just thinking of leaving. Although we don’t know what to do next.’
Corinne gave a self-deprecating grin. ‘Well, as it happens, I haven’t had a thing today. My mouth’s disgusting. Would it be a real pain if I had a quick cup?’
‘Not really. I could phone Melanie and see how she is.’
‘And I ought to check in with that liaison woman,’ said Helen. ‘I’ve been gone for hours. Something might have happened.’
‘They’d call you if it did,’ said Corinne. ‘Do they come to you, or have I got to go in to order a coffee?’
‘Quicker to go in,’ Helen advised.
Simmy called Melanie first. The phone rang for several seconds. ‘Hello,’ came the eventual response. ‘Simmy? Has something happened?’
‘No. I just wondered how you were. Are you at work?’
‘No, I’m not. I’ve just had Bonnie asking me the same thing.’
‘Really? So how are you?’
‘Don’t ask. I’m a mess. It’s nice of you to think of me, though.’
‘Are you on your own?’
The hollow laugh sounded more like the old Melanie. ‘What – in this house? Did I tell you my mum got another dog? A mad puppy that does nothing but torment the other one all day. And shits everywhere, obviously. It’s not safe to walk across a room. And the old man’s off, for some reason. Says he’s cricked his neck, lazy bugger.’
‘You might be better off at the hotel,’ said Simmy, without thinking. It was axiomatic that Melanie spent as little time as possible in her family home. One major motive in opting for a career in hospitality was that most places provided accommodation. The Hawkshead Hotel had been a disappointment in that respect.
‘Why?’
‘Well … sorry. That was a daft thing to say. But you need to be out of the house. You’ll just stew about everything if you stay there.’
‘What do you suggest?’
Simmy couldn’t think. She was at Helen Harkness’s mercy, unless she got a ride in Corinne’s ramshackle vehicle. They were not one inch closer to finding Ben and the morning was virtually gone. ‘It’s all rather a muddle at the moment,’ she admitted. ‘I’ll phone you again in an hour or two, and we’ll work something out.’
‘I haven’t forgotten about Ben, you know,’ said Melanie, suddenly sharp. ‘I get that everybody’s much more worried about him than Dan.’
‘It’s not a matter of either one or the other, is it? It’s all the same thing.’
‘Not quite. Ben’s most likely still alive, and Dan isn’t. That’s different, actually. About as different as you can get, the way I see it.’
The most likely sent a blade across Simmy’s chest; she could feel it as a genuine pain. ‘You need to come here and help us find him,’ she panted. ‘His mother’s here, and Corinne. Bonnie’s at the hotel, apparently. Come and help us. We should all be together.’
‘I might come and find you later,’ Melanie conceded. ‘Bye, Simmy.’
Finally, Simmy thought, she’d reached the crucial point. The people who loved Ben should all be together. Not just for each other, but for him. They would create a force field against whoever was holding him and by sheer willpower come to his rescue. At that moment, it seemed possible.
Corinne’s coffee arrived and she drank it in a single draught. ‘That’s better,’ she said. ‘Now, come along ladies, we’ve got to get ourselves organised. The morning’s been a complete waste, so far. Unless Bonnie’s come up with something. That wouldn’t surprise me.’ She looked at Helen’s phone. ‘What time is it?’
‘Five to twelve.’
‘Blimey! Come on, then. Back to the car park.’
They walked in the road for most of the way, as did everyone else in Hawkshead, thanks to the absence of traffic. The occasional exception had to crawl through the pedestrians enduring dark looks along the way.
Corinne’s car was under a tree in a corner, its scratches and dents concealed by the shadows. ‘Will she find it?’ worried Simmy. ‘It’s not very visible.’
‘She knows I always tuck it away if I can. Don’t worry about it.’
Helen was slightly behind them, walking with a limp that Simmy hadn’t noticed before. ‘Have you hurt yourself?’ she asked, wondering how that could be possible.
‘No, no. It’s arthritis. I’m scheduled for a new hip at the end of this month. I’ve been putting it off, thinking I was far too young, but they’ve persuaded me. It’s my own fault for spending most of my life at the drawing board. I’m convinced that’s made it worse.’
‘But what about all that fell walking?’
‘Good question. I probably didn’t mention that I’ve hardly been anywhere for a couple of years now.’ She winced. ‘It gets worse as the day goes by. Mornings aren’t too bad, as a rule. And of course I didn’t think about it at all today.’
‘You poor thing,’ Simmy sympathised. ‘I had no idea. What about that sixty-mile hike you did with Ben?’
‘I was doped up with painkillers a lot of the time. It was my final flourish. I enjoyed it all the more for knowing that.’
‘But you’ll be okay again once you’ve got the new hip.’
‘Two new hips, eventually. Let’s hope so. Things can go wrong, you know.’
Simmy could see fear in the woman’s eyes. ‘Not to be undertaken lightly,’ she said. ‘I’d be pretty scared at the prospect. But I’m sure it’ll be fine. Anything must be better than constant pain.’
‘I try not to make a fuss,’ said Helen with a hint of self-mockery.
‘Hey! Look!’ Corinne had reached her car and was removing a sheet of paper from under the windscreen wiper. ‘Someone’s left me a note.’
She held it out so the others could see it and read it aloud. ‘Hope this is the right car. A boy asked me to say he’s okay. It was early today. Sorry I can’t stop. It’s probably all a joke, anyway. He was with a woman and said his name’s Ben. Sorry, I don’t want to get involved in anything.’
They all stood rigid with shock. Then Simmy took it and read it again. ‘But where was he? If he could tell this person which car is yours, why couldn’t he tell them what’s happened?’
‘Who’s the woman he was with?’ said Helen.
‘The kidnapper. It must be,’ said Corinne.
‘We’ve got to think this through,’ said Simmy, wishing Melanie were there. Or DI Moxon. Or – best of all – Bonnie. ‘It says “early today”, so that must be before we got here. So did this person hang around all morning looking out for your car? Then when it turned up, put this note on the windscreen? That’s very public-spirited for someone who doesn’t want to get involved.’
Corinne rubbed her face vigorously. ‘I’ve never known anything so weird.’
‘You would if you’d known Ben all his life,’ said Helen. ‘He likes to make things complicated.’
‘Not this time,’ said Simmy with certainty. ‘If he could have said more, he would have. He knows this isn’t a joke. He’ll have been sure that Bonnie would come looking for him, and assumed she’d have to get Corinne to drive him. Look at the registration.’ She pointed at the front of the car. ‘W456 OBY. That’s fairly memorable. If someone was controlling him, stopping him from talking to anyone, he’d have to keep it very short. I bet this note was written by an old woman, who lives around here somewhere. I can just imagine him pretending to bump into her or something like that, and asking her to leave this note.’
‘No, no,’ said Helen. ‘Far more likely to have been a kid. An adult wouldn’t take any notice of him.’
‘You could be right. Look at the paper,’ said Simmy. ‘It’s been torn out of an exercise book. Probably a schoolbook, don’t you think?’
‘Written with a felt tip, not a biro,’ said Helen. ‘As if that meant anything.’
‘It means he’s okay,’ said Simmy, feeling a rush of emotion. ‘That’s the main thing.’
Helen was still examining the note. ‘All the spelling’s right. A young kid wouldn’t write like this. It’s quite nice writing, as well. Looks more like a girl than a boy, if my lot are anything to go by.’
‘It’s not anybody we know, obviously,’ said Corinne. ‘I hope this is the right car. If they knew us, there wouldn’t be any doubt about it, would there?’
‘Obviously,’ Simmy repeated. ‘“He said his name’s Ben”. So how could it have happened?’ She closed her eyes to think. Then, ‘So he’s in a shop or somewhere with the kidnapper, who’s a woman. A person, who might be a teenager, maybe let out of school now the exams are finished, the same as Ben, is close to him. Ben whispers, “I need you to help me. Can you watch out for a blue Citroën, number plate W456 OBY, and put a note on it, or talk to the people in it, and say Ben says he’s okay?” That’s all it need have been. He might have repeated the number. Then the person spends the morning watching for the car, but didn’t want to approach directly, because it all feels pretty dodgy. Ben might just have said – “tell them I’m okay.” That would only take a few seconds.’
‘Isn’t it a huge risk for the kidnapper to take him into a public place? He’d be sure to try to fool her and escape.’ Helen looked extremely confused and unsure. ‘Although … well, some of it does sound like him, I must admit.’
‘It does,’ said Corinne. ‘Clever little beggar.’
‘Except – what does it really mean, that he says he’s okay?’ asked Simmy. ‘He’s really not, is he? He’s alive, which is probably what he meant.’
They were standing at the front of the car, still passing the note back and forth, staring at it in turn as if to force a secret code to materialise if they only knew how.
‘Hiya!’ came a girlish voice from the rear of the car. ‘What’re you all doing?’
‘Bonnie.’ Simmy’s first, rather odd instinct was to hide the note from the girl. But as Helen was holding it, she had no way of doing so.
‘And me,’ said a man, coming up behind Bonnie. ‘I found her at the hotel – again. She’s obstructing police investigations. We were just going to call you and then drive off to Kendal, but Bonnie had to go to the Ladies first. She was a long time.’ He said it with a quiet smile, entirely removing any criticism from the words. Then he paused. ‘Has something happened?’
‘Um …’ said Simmy.
‘Hi, Nolan,’ said Corinne with exaggerated matiness.
Simmy’s eyes widened. How come she was on first-name terms with him? Something to do with foster children, she supposed, although she’d been under the impression that her charges were all much too young to fall foul of the police.
He rolled his eyes, and sighed. ‘Watch it,’ he said. This time there was no smile.
‘What’s that?’ Bonnie had seen the paper in Helen’s hand.
‘A note,’ said Helen, proffering it not to Bonnie, but to the police inspector. ‘From Ben. Sort of.’
Moxon took it as if it might explode in his hand. He glanced at all the ungloved fingers, which he rightly assumed had touched it, and sighed.
‘Let me see,’ said Bonnie, threatening to snatch it. Moxon held it high, out of her reach.
‘Please,’ she begged.
‘Wait.’ He read it slowly, his brow creased in bewilderment. ‘Well …’ he said at last and handed the paper to Bonnie. ‘Hold it at the very edge,’ he warned her.
She read it in a single glance and then turned it over. Nobody, not even Moxon, had thought to do that. It had a grey smudge on it from the wiper blade, but nothing else. Bonnie sighed.
‘What were you looking for?’ asked Simmy.
‘A sign,’ she said. ‘So Ben never touched this. He told someone else to do it.’
‘Have you any idea who?’
‘Someone who believed him and who had enough brain to remember the car number or description. Or who knows me and Corinne. “Early today”. That’s the important bit. Pity they don’t say an exact time. Then we could check the movements of all the women on the list.’
‘List?’ queried Moxon.
‘Of suspects. Hotel staff and guests, basically.’
And Melanie, came the thought unbidden to Simmy’s mind. She kicked it away in horror. What was the matter with her? How could she be so idiotic, so treacherous, so peculiar as to think such a thing? Just that Mel was one of the hotel staff, of course. That’s all it was. Obviously.
‘We could have fingerprinted it,’ said Moxon. ‘Still can, of course, but we’ll have to eliminate you three ladies. And I don’t suppose it’ll be of any help.’
‘The person would have to be on your database,’ nodded Bonnie. ‘And I don’t think that’s very likely.’
Simmy watched as he pursed his lips, in a silent reproach to the liberals who had ensured that no comprehensive database containing the prints of every individual in the land existed. Except, that was going to be DNA, wasn’t it, Simmy asked herself.
‘We worked out what might have happened,’ said Helen, and repeated Simmy’s theory almost verbatim. ‘We thought a kid – a big kid like Ben – was the most credible. But one that doesn’t know Ben. Of course, they go to a different school from here. It’s the John Ruskin. Ben goes to the Lakes.’
‘Yes, but there’s no sixth form at the JR,’ said Bonnie.
‘So?’ asked Moxon, a trifle impatiently.
‘So it’s more complicated than you think. If a person is over sixteen, they could go to a school somewhere further from where they live.’
‘This isn’t helping,’ said the detective. ‘As I see it, there are two very significant facts here. First, the boy is alive and well. Second, he’s with a woman.’
Bonnie danced in frustration. ‘There’s no clue,’ she wailed. ‘Why didn’t he leave a proper clue?’
‘Maybe he did,’ said Helen. ‘You know what he’s like.’
‘You don’t think this whole business is one big game to him, do you?’ Simmy felt a sudden gust of rage at the very idea.
‘Do they know … ?’ Moxon asked Bonnie. ‘All that stuff you just told me?’
‘Um … probably not.’
‘What?’ said Corinne, Simmy and Helen in unison.
‘It’s just this game we’re putting together. It’s nowhere near finished. Just odd bits and pieces, really. But it’s what we’ve been doing for a month now. At least. It’s educational,’ she added defensively. ‘History and plants and all sorts. It’ll make a fortune when it’s finished.’
‘It just might at that,’ Moxon confirmed. ‘But first—’
‘First we have to find him,’ said Helen loudly. ‘Instead of just standing here.’
Simmy gave voice to her main difficulty. ‘I still don’t get why his kidnapper would go out into the streets with him, for anyone to see. How did she know he wouldn’t be recognised? Or make a run for it?’
‘She could have threatened him,’ said Corinne. ‘After all, he knows she’s killed one person already. She could have said his sisters, or Bonnie, would be gone after if he didn’t do what he was told. He might well believe it.’
Simmy recalled a highly unpleasant and frightening threat made to her parents not so long ago, and nodded. ‘Makes sense,’ she said.
‘Look – I have to get back to the hotel,’ said Moxon. ‘My superiors are not going to believe that any of this is helping with the murder investigation. The manager wants us to pack up and go by this time tomorrow, and until we’ve got every last detail out of all those people, that isn’t going to happen.’
‘It is helping, though,’ said Simmy. ‘Now you know the killer – or one of them – is a woman. You just have to work out where they all were early this morning, and see who was missing.’
‘Just,’ he repeated with a touch of scorn. ‘They’re all coming and going the whole time. The guests, especially, can’t be kept from doing what they want. That child, Gentian, drives her mother mad if she isn’t kept amused.’
‘I saw her,’ said Bonnie. ‘I saw most of them, actually. So did you.’ She looked at Simmy. ‘There were two swarthy foreigners as well. They look like drug dealers.’
‘Stop it,’ ordered Moxon.
‘What about that woman in a suit?’ Simmy asked suddenly. ‘Was she there as well?’
Moxon and Bonnie exchanged a look. ‘Suit? What sort of suit?’
‘Dark-blue, short skirt. High heels. She was in the foyer yesterday, getting impatient. Then she went outside for a bit. Then she drove away. You must have seen her, when she was talking to the Lillywhites. You were right there beside her.’
‘Was I? I don’t remember.’
Simmy looked under her eyebrows at him. She was at least as tall as him, and this look was one she had developed since meeting Ben Harkness. It conveyed, Have you really thought about what you just said? and I think you might want to try that again. It worked very effectively.
‘Do you know her name?’ he asked.
‘Of course not. I got the impression she was trying to book into the hotel, and nobody was paying her any attention. She was fairly miffed about it. Then I wondered whether she might have some connection to the Americans that Dan was so worried about. That seemed to make sense. They wanted to impress these people, because they could bring in extra business. That’s why I had to do the flowers yesterday. To make a good impression.’ She watched as Moxon tried to untangle this stream of information.
‘The ones in the foyer look gorgeous,’ said Bonnie, irrelevantly. ‘I noticed them particularly, just now.’
Moxon had gone pink. ‘This sounds extremely interesting,’ he said. ‘I’m sure somebody will have spoken to this woman, and got a name. We’ll have to check through all the bookings.’
‘I’ve just thought of something,’ said Bonnie excitedly. ‘There is a clue, after all.’ And before they could stop her she was running across the car park, dodging vehicles and heading towards the church.