But I digress. It is just a tale, an irrelevance; part of the legend that has built up over the years acquiring additions
like a boat acquires barnacles. I must return to the story. It is Jeanne’s story that is important to me. It is Jeanne who
was the forerunner.
I have found no mention of Jeanne in any records for the year after her arrival as a young bride, apart from the gift given
by her husband, Stephen de Grendalle, to Morre Abbey on the occasion of her baptism. But perhaps during that year Urien de
Norton was making his plans: his own twisted form of evil was growing like a maggot in his mind.
(From papers found in the possession of Professor
Yves Demancour)
Wesley stared at the lab report, turning its implications over in his mind. Nadia Lucas was the victim. Nadia had been trying
to discover the truth about her mother’s death and now she herself was dead.
Gerry’s voice interrupted his thoughts. ‘So Ian Rowe must have borrowed her car after her death. How did he get hold of it?’
‘Good question. But at least we know he couldn’t have killed her. He had the best alibi of all. When Nadia was murdered in
Grandal Field, Rowe was pestering me and Pam in Carcassonne.’
Gerry thought for a few moments, his chin resting on his hand. ‘If Nadia and Rowe were killed by the same person it looks
as if they might have been closer than we thought. He even knew where to find her car and the keys. You say he did a runner
from Carcassonne. Maybe it wasn’t that letter he received from Crace that made him take off like that. Maybe someone contacted
him to say that Nadia was in danger.’
‘Who?’
‘Well, I don’t think it was Nadia’s housemate, Caroline Tay. If you ask me, she kept her distance. And it wasn’t Forsyte Wiley,
the private detective. He didn’t even know Rowe.’
Wesley thought for a few moments then he picked up the phone. ‘Jack Plesance, the owner of Owl Cottage. He might be able to
throw some light on the matter.’
‘He’s worth a try and we’ve got to start somewhere.’
Wesley was about to call Plesance’s mobile but he stopped and replaced the receiver carefully. ‘There’s another aspect to
this case that we haven’t considered yet, Gerry. Neil came round last night.’
‘Oh aye,’ said Gerry. Wesley could hear the impatience in his voice. He wanted to get on with the investigation, not listen
to details of his inspector’s social life.
‘No, listen. There’s a story about that field. A woman was burned alive there at the start of the thirteenth century.’
‘Not our problem, Wes.’
Wesley ignored the note of flippancy in his voice and continued. ‘Neil’s been researching the site. The woman was murdered
by her husband because he thought she was unfaithful but she wasn’t. She’d once been a Cathar, a heretic, so he burned her
alive, Gerry.’
‘I’ve heard of copycat killings but not seven centuries apart. It’s a coincidence. Or maybe someone read the old story and
thought it would be a good location.’
‘Or to make a point. Nadia was unfaithful. Or she betrayed someone.’
‘So we’re looking for a jealous boyfriend? Which brings us back to Rowe. Let’s face it, we don’t know that she was involved
with anyone else.’
‘What about Demancour with his fantasies about watching women being burned alive? They worked closely so who’s to say they
weren’t an item? And he knows the story.’
Wesley sighed. Now it had been put into words, the theory of the historical connection somehow didn’t sound quite so convincing.
‘It’s a start. We can ask everyone who knew her about her love life – someone’s bound to know. And I want another word with
Forsyte Wiley to see if she mentioned anything about a boyfriend.’
‘Or someone who wants to be a boyfriend … or a girlfriend. From the little we know of Nadia, it seems that Ian Rowe was the
only man in her life but there could be someone else in the background.’
Wesley grabbed a piece of paper from Gerry’s desk – a memo about crime statistics from Chief Superintendent Nutter that Wesley
knew would inevitably be filed in the waste bin. He turned it over and began to write on the back. ‘We need to talk to Forsyte
Wiley, Jack Plesance, Caroline Tay and Professor Demancour for starters,’ he said as he scribbled down the names. Then he
looked up at Gerry. ‘And we’ll pay Sir Martin Crace and his entourage another visit.’
‘Mmm. I reckon that PA might know more than she’s letting on.’
They hadn’t time for a wasted journey so Wesley asked Rachel to arrange another appointment with Sir Martin Crace. And they’d
talk to his PA, Eva Liversedge, while they were at it.
But after a while Rachel poked her head round the door and reported that Sir Martin wasn’t available to speak to the police
until later that afternoon. He was closeted in a meeting with a government minister and they were having lunch together. ‘That
PA spoke to me
as if I was a couple of rungs below the man who unblocked the drains,’ she added, bristling with righteous indignation.
Once that was sorted out, Wesley made a short call to Forsyte Wiley, a simple enquiry about whether Nadia had mentioned any
names they could follow up. When Wesley told him about the DNA identification he seemed genuinely stunned at the news, and
assured him that he’d already told Rachel and Paul everything he knew. His relationship with Nadia had been on a purely business
footing. He’d been hired to find out what he could about her mother’s death, nothing more. And Nadia had revealed nothing
to him about her private life.
Suddenly Wesley remembered something in Rachel’s report, something he’d made a mental note of but had forgotten until that
moment.
‘You told my colleague that you’d traced Wendy Haskel’s last known address, Mr Wiley.’
‘That’s right,’ Wiley replied and recited it obligingly. It was a Tradmouth address, one of the steep streets of small houses
leading down to the harbour – somewhere he passed every day on his way to work.
‘You also told Sergeant Tracey that you were going to trace the people Wendy Haskel worked with. Do you have any names?’
‘Sorry, Inspector, but I didn’t get that far.’ To Wesley’s surprise the man did sound genuinely sorry.
Wesley was about to end the call when he remembered one last question he wanted to ask. ‘Did Nadia ever mention the name Ian
Rowe?’
The answer was in the negative so Wesley thanked him and considered his next move. Somehow he’d imagined that, now they knew
the identity of their victim, things might be more straightforward. But instead he felt more confused.
He looked up and saw Gerry Heffernan’s bulky form bearing down on him. ‘Any luck with our private eye?’
Wesley shook his head. ‘I don’t think he knows anything. He was shocked to hear about her death but that’s only to be expected.’
Gerry grunted something Wesley couldn’t quite make out. ‘I’ve just asked Lee Parsons to trace her next of kin but it’s not
going to be an easy job. Mum topped herself, dad died and no brothers or sisters. Sad, eh.’
Wesley smiled. Gerry was showing his soft side.
‘What about her phone records?’
‘Not much luck there. There were a few calls to Ian Rowe in France. Several to and from Forsyte Wiley. A couple to Caroline
Tay and a few to the university. And a pay-as-you-go number called her a couple of times in the days before her death and
at four o’clock on the day itself.’
‘Her killer arranging a meeting?’
‘Possibly. But like I said, it’s untraceable and it’s also been switched off.’
Gerry looked up at the clock on his wall, always kept ten minutes fast so that he wouldn’t be late for meetings with the Chief
Superintendent. ‘We’ll go to Neston and have another word with Caroline Tay. Nadia’s things’ll need searching through and
all. We
need to find that letter Forsyte Wiley mentioned, the one she found with those old photos. He reckoned that’s what triggered
Nadia’s search so it must be important.’ He looked through his office window, scanning the faces in the CID office outside.
‘We’ll take Trish.’
Wesley nodded. He agreed that it would help if a woman went through Nadia’s most intimate things and Trish could be trusted
to sort the important from the irrelevant. He suddenly remembered something. ‘When we first called round, Caroline Tay mentioned
a break-in.’ It was something he’d forgotten until that moment. Something routine that was dealt with by uniform. A crime
number and an insurance claim.
Gerry caught on quickly. ‘You think the break-in was connected with Nadia’s murder? Her killer was searching for something?’
‘Well, whoever broke in hasn’t tried again so perhaps they found what they were looking for. That letter maybe?’
‘Or maybe it was just a common or garden break-in. I suggest we get round there now and find out.’ Gerry opened the office
door and shouted over to Rachel. ‘Rach. Get on to the university. If Caroline Tay’s at work tell her we want to meet her back
at her house a.s.a.p. Say it’s urgent but don’t tell her about Nadia yet. We’ll break the sad news.’
Wesley saw Rachel pick up the phone and he turned to Gerry. ‘When we’ve seen Caroline Tay there’s someone else I want to visit.
I think one of my old tutors might be able to help identify some of the
people and places in those pictures we found in Nadia’s locker. According to Neil, there’s not much he doesn’t know about
the archaeological fraternity in these parts.’
‘You think there’s a link with that old story Neil told you?’ Gerry sounded sceptical.
‘Nadia’s mother was an archaeologist. Nadia was trying to find out the truth about what happened to her. Incidentally, Forsyte
Wiley discovered Wendy Haskel’s last known address. It’s a long shot but there might be a neighbour there who remembers her.’
Gerry looked him in the eye. ‘You reckon this mother’s still alive and doesn’t want to be found, do you?’
‘No, and even if she was, surely she wouldn’t kill her own daughter.’
‘Stranger things have happened,’ Gerry replied solemnly.
Wesley said nothing. It wasn’t a possibility he wanted to consider.
Jem Burrows had watched the archaeologists for a full hour but he was certain they hadn’t seen him. Somehow he had expected
Bright to be there, causing the diggers grief. But it seemed he was leaving them to it.
He had thought that watching an archaeological dig would be interesting, like that programme on the telly where they had just
three days to unearth all sorts of exciting treasures. But it looked quite boring really, painstaking and tedious, even though
the footprint of
a building was starting to emerge from the rich red earth.
Those low stone walls had been there for centuries, lying beneath the ground. And now they’d be destroyed by the foundations
of Bright’s nasty little boxes. Then those boxes would be filled with incomers and secondhome owners.
But that wasn’t his concern right now. His priority was to find out where Bright was. He needed to keep an eye on Jon Bright.
He took his mobile phone – pay-as-you-go and bought in a false name for cash – from his pocket, wondering whether it would
be safe to make the call. He had to be careful, even though the police had checked out his alibi for the summer house fire
and found it was rock-solid. He couldn’t ruin it now. Not when everything was going so smoothly.
He thought of the burned-out summer house at Bright’s place and smiled. Fire really was the best way.
Fire cleansed as well as destroyed.
Caroline Tay looked a little annoyed when Wesley, Gerry and Trish Walton first arrived at her house. She had been dragged
away from work, she said, just when she was in the middle of something important. As she opened the door to let them in she
eyed them warily, as though she felt outnumbered.
She invited them to sit, perching herself on the edge of an armchair, and Gerry gave Wesley a small nod. It was up to him
to begin.
Wesley assumed his most solemn expression. ‘I’m
very sorry to bring bad news, Ms Tay, but I’m afraid Nadia is dead. She was murdered.’
He let this sink in for a few moments before continuing. ‘You have heard about the woman who was burned to death in Queenswear?’
‘The one in that field. It was horrible.’ Caroline’s voice was hoarse, barely audible. ‘You don’t think that was Nadia? Surely
it couldn’t be her. I thought it was some gangland thing. Nadia didn’t mix with people like that.’
‘You told us before that you didn’t know much about her,’ said Gerry.
Caroline frowned as she looked him in the eye. ‘I know enough to be sure that she wouldn’t get involved with anything violent.
She just wasn’t that type. She was an academic. She worked for a professor. And as far as I know she had no enemies.’ She
bit her lip. ‘Is it something to do with the man who died in that cottage fire … that friend of hers? What was his name?’
‘Ian Rowe. We’re still pursuing enquiries.’
‘What about that man who called here – the one I told you about? Is he—?’
‘It turns out he was a private detective she’d hired to find out what happened to her mother,’ Wesley answered. ‘And we don’t
think he has anything to do with her death. Did she have any other visitors?’
Caroline shook her head. ‘Nadia didn’t seem to have many friends. She kept herself to herself.’
‘Did she ever mention her mother’s disappearance?’
Caroline raised her eyebrows. ‘No, she didn’t.
Nothing like that. She never talked about her family. But then we weren’t close. She was just my lodger.’
‘Ian Rowe, the man who died, was driving her car. We’ve been assuming all along that she must have either driven him to the
scene herself or met him to hand over the key. But now we know she was dead by then, so have you any idea how he might have
got hold of it?’
‘She kept her car in a lock-up garage just down the road. Only the lock was broken some time last year. Vandals.’
‘So if Rowe knew where the car was and he had the key, he could have taken it without you knowing?’
She thought for a moment. ‘She was always scared of losing her keys so she might have left a spare set somewhere. I know someone
at work who keeps a spare key taped to her wheel arch. Nadia might have done something like that, I suppose. She never mentioned
it to me but she might have told this Ian Rowe where to find it.’