The Frozen Shroud (15 page)

‘The journey here was a nightmare. It’s a long way from Grange by public transport, you know.’

‘Why don’t you take a break?’ Hannah suggested. ‘Treat yourself to a cup of coffee, or a snack from the shop?’

‘I had my tea before I came out.’ She considered her son’s flickering eyelids. ‘I think he’s coming round. I’ll go and powder my nose. Back in a couple of ticks. Don’t you go upsetting him in the meantime.’

As she stomped off, Hannah pulled her chair closer to
the bed and inspected the patient. The gash was bandaged, and he wasn’t instantly recognisable as the good-looking bloke she’d shared a bed with for so long. But it could have been so much worse.

‘How are you?’

He opened bloodshot eyes and said croakily, ‘They tell me I’ll live.’

‘How are the ribs?’

‘Hurt like hell.’ Was he calculating whether self-pity would attract sympathy, or be counterproductive? He really ought to know better by now.

‘The doctor tells me you’ll be as good as new before long. Thank God.’ She took a breath. ‘About last night.’

The battering his face had taken made it easy for him to hide emotion. ‘Yes?’

‘It was a one-off. I’d had a couple of drinks and I was feeling sorry for myself. Stupid. It’s not that Greg took advantage …’

‘No?’

‘No! My fault, and I’m not going to make a habit of it. But …’

‘Uh-huh?’

‘Even if I wanted to make a habit of it, that would be my choice. Marc, you need to understand, it’s over between the two of us. I’d already made that clear. It’s none of your business what I do or who I’m with in my private life. Such as it is.’

Slowly, he said, ‘I’ve had a bit of time to chew things over since I regained consciousness.’

‘And?’

‘I agree.’ He expelled a long sigh, as though the admission
had cost a vast physical effort. She wasn’t convinced; he often resorted to play-acting when things got tough. Or was she just a cynical old witch who had never deserved a man’s devotion? ‘I kept hoping, couldn’t help it, but …’

‘But?’

‘Last night I finally saw we were finished, and it was forever.’

She sat tight, sure there was more to come.

‘It’s not about Greg Wharf, is it? It’s about … me. And you’re not going to change your mind.’

‘’Fraid not.’

‘I was furious with you. I felt betrayed, even though I had no right. That’s why I drove like a maniac.’

‘You could have killed yourself.’

‘Last night, I didn’t care.’ He was gritting his teeth, whether against the physical pain or the despair of admitting defeat, she couldn’t say. ‘I wasn’t drunk, you know.’

‘Just as well, you’d have had a court case and a driving ban to worry about, as well as your cuts and bruises.’

She was doing it deliberately, this ostentatious lack of sympathy, so he was in no doubt that playing mind games would be a waste of time.

‘Apparently I might still get prosecuted.’

‘For driving without due care, yes.’

‘Making an example of me, I suppose. No favours shown to a DCI’s ex. That sort of thing.’

‘What do you expect? You smashed your car into a tree. It could have been so much worse. And for what? No reason.’

‘Losing you was a pretty good reason,’ he murmured. ‘Or so it seemed last night.’

She patted his bruised hand. ‘In the cold light of day, you can see how wrong you were.’

‘I can’t write all those years together off as if they counted for nothing, even if you can.’

‘They did count for something. But at the risk of sounding like some idiot counsellor on daytime TV, we both need to move on. All right?’

‘All right.’ He forced a smile. ‘Maybe I’d better ask you for Terri’s number … hey, what’s the matter? It was only a joke. We’re friends, that’s all. Why are you looking at me like I just spat in your face?’

Driving through Brackdale half an hour later, Hannah took a call hands-free from Fern. Her friend’s exultant voice echoed around the Lexus.

‘We’re getting warmer with every passing hour. There is CCTV footage of Deyna arriving at Euston. We even see him splashing out on a taxi. What a gift! We traced the cabbie, who says he took him to an address in Hammersmith. A lot of Poles live in that part of London, apparently, so maybe he’s asking a favour from an old friend. Begging a loan, I suppose, or help in getting out of the country.’

‘Fantastic.’ If Hannah hadn’t needed to keep both hands on the steering wheel to negotiate the winding route that led to Brack, she’d have clenched a fist in triumph. ‘Any chance of lifting him tonight?’

‘Keep everything crossed. Of course, he may not have stayed all day in the house where the cabbie dropped him off, but with any luck, he won’t have gone far.’ A pause. ‘So where are you off to?’

‘Daniel and Louise Kind offered a meal and a bed for the
night.’ She was making them sound like a married couple. ‘I took your advice and said thanks very much. I’m only a few minutes away.’

‘Glad to hear it. Daniel and his sister were good witnesses, by the way, as you might expect. Told us all they could, without wasting time. Are you taking some leave, as well?’

‘Tomorrow, yes. Right now, I feel like I could sleep for a week. I’ve just left the hospital. Marc is okay, all things considered. His mother was there, hating me more than ever these days. But it was worth running the gauntlet. He accepts that we’re finished, which is progress.’

‘About time, if you ask me. Enjoy your evening with Daniel. I’ll let you know when we nab Stefan. Oh, there was one tiny piece of good news. I forgot to mention it earlier on.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Stefan didn’t kill Terri’s cat after all. In fact, he’d been looking after it in Patterdale, and left a note asking his poor old landlord and landlady to take care of the poor little creature.’

‘You’re kidding?’

‘No, but it’s weird behaviour for a man who had just bludgeoned his ex-lover to death. The torn photo must just have been his attempt to rattle her. Or maybe he couldn’t bring himself to harm an animal. Human nature, eh? You couldn’t make it up.’

‘Robin Park,’ Hannah said. ‘What is he like?’

She and the Kinds were relaxing over a glass of Rioja after a filling dinner: Louise cooked a mean shepherd’s pie.
Tarn Cottage was a congenial place to spend an evening, far better than lonely, draughty Undercrag. When she moved, she ought to try and find somewhere comparable. If she could afford the mortgage, without a partner to share the financial load.

‘Not easy to form an opinion of someone who’s experiencing the worst moments of his life,’ Daniel said. ‘If you’re wondering if he was less keen on Terri than she was on him, I think I can set your mind at rest.’

‘Yes?’

‘Absolutely. He was heartbroken when we found the body. Horrified.’

‘But?’ Hannah asked.

‘What makes you think there is a “but”?’

‘Be honest,’ Louise said. ‘When he turned up at Watendlath, you thought he was overreacting, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, though I didn’t get the impression he was
acting
. If that was a performance, it deserved an Academy Award. He’d lost Terri, and he was desperate to find her. But he seemed more frightened by the legend of the Faceless Woman, and the coincidence that Terri had gone missing at Hallowe’en, than I thought was rational.’ Daniel took another sip from his glass. ‘My mistake. He was right to be afraid.’

‘One thing’s for sure,’ Louise said, ‘he wasn’t the only one who was rattled.’

‘No?’ Hannah asked.

‘Quin and Jeffrey quarrelled after we went to bed. It was obvious this morning, as much from their body language as from what was actually said. At breakfast, you could cut the tension with a knife.’

‘Last Saturday evening,’ Daniel said, ‘I saw Jeffrey slap Quin on the face.’

‘What was that all about?’ Hannah asked.

‘Not sure. It’s obviously a volatile relationship. They’ve been together for years, but it isn’t easy, working together and living together as well. Perhaps the pressure tells on Jeffrey, every now and then.’

‘Three women killed in Ravenbank on Hallowe’en,’ Louise said. ‘Even allowing for the fact the murders span a century, it’s bizarre.’

‘The press are wetting themselves with excitement,’ Hannah said, ‘especially since they discovered that a former telly presenter with an interest in murder was on the spot when the body was found.’

‘We left the landline phone off the hook,’ Daniel said. ‘Journalists were waiting for us here as soon as we got home after giving our statements. I issued a two-line comment, a morsel for them to chew on, and refused to say any more. Finally they gave up, and went off to file their stories. But they’ll be back.’

‘After badgering your agent with offers of publicity for your new book,’ Louise said.

‘Vultures.’ Daniel groaned. ‘They’ve got a job to do, I guess. When we last saw Oz Knight, he was slamming his front door in the face of a young woman from one of the nationals. I suppose being in the news for the wrong reasons may harm his company.’

‘Not like Oz to rebuff a pretty blonde,’ Louise said. ‘He isn’t exactly the model of a faithful husband.’

‘Is that right?’ Hannah asked.

‘His wife told Daniel that he had a fling with Shenagh
Moss before she moved into Ravenbank Hall with Francis Palladino.’

‘And Melody Knight? Marc hinted to me once that she’s a flirt.’

‘I’m not sure she means anything by it. Though Daniel will know better than me.’ Louise gave her brother a cheeky grin. ‘She’s already had a cosy one-to-one with him.’

Daniel blushed. ‘She writes freelance for local magazines, a rich woman’s hobby, I suspect. She isn’t a trained journalist. When she said she was keen to discuss the murder of Gertrude Smith, I was happy to have a chat. We met at Marc’s shop.’

‘What did she have to say?’

‘Her theory is that Letty Hodgkinson was innocent, and someone else killed the Faceless Woman.’

‘Based on what?’

‘A conversation overheard years ago by Robin Park’s mother, when she was working at Ravenbank Hall during its former incarnation as a care home. Letty’s daughter, Dorothy, met Roland Jones there when he was a patient, just before he died. He’d been her tutor – and one of Gertrude’s admirers.’

‘What was said in this conversation?’

‘Miriam Park is maddeningly vague. The bottom line is, I’m not aware of any hard evidence to support the view that Letty Hodgkinson didn’t kill Gertrude.’

‘Coincidentally, Fern Larter, who was on the team when Shenagh Moss was killed, was convinced she wasn’t guilty either.’

Daniel nodded. ‘Marc told me.’

‘Suppose it wasn’t a coincidence?’ Louise suggested.

‘What else can it have been?’ Hannah asked. ‘Everybody involved in the Gertrude Smith case was long dead by the time Shenagh was murdered.’

Daniel stood up and raked the fire with a long brass-handled poker. Hannah was mesmerised. Had Stefan Deyna used a similar weapon to smash her friend’s face to pulp?

‘I suppose,’ Daniel said quietly, ‘the theory was that Craig Meek simply copied the MO of Gertrude’s killer to deflect suspicion away from him?’

‘Suggesting a connection with the previous murder at Ravenbank?’ Louise said. ‘He was an outsider, so it might make sense.’

‘Yet nobody seems to have been fooled. As I understand it, whatever Fern’s personal reservations, he’d have been arrested if he hadn’t died in that car crash.’

As Hannah nodded, Louise said, ‘Rather like Stefan. He may have tried to pull the wool over people’s eyes, but without success.’

‘Exactly,’ Daniel said. ‘He’s the obvious suspect, so battering poor Terri and covering her face in much the same way as happened twice before in Ravenbank was pointless.’

‘Killing Terri was even more pointless,’ Hannah said. ‘She never did anyone any harm.’

‘Of course not. But it makes me wonder – why did Stefan bother, why did Meek take the trouble, when it was so futile to imitate the murder of Gertrude Smith? Why …?’

‘Two crazy killers,’ Louise interrupted. ‘Logic matters less to them than to a former Oxford don.’

‘I’m a writer, not a don,’ her brother said. ‘People interest
me. Why they do what they do. Now, and in the past. And this copycat MO, I just don’t get it. Take Stefan, for instance. How did he know about the legend of the Frozen Shroud? Why take it into his head to indulge in some kind of grisly re-enactment of the old story?’

‘He’ll have read about it,’ Louise objected. ‘If he found out where Terri’s new boyfriend lived, he’ll have looked up Ravenbank, and hey presto!’

Hannah’s phone trilled. ‘This is Fern. Hopefully we’ll soon find out what Stefan has to say for himself.’

‘Got him!’ Fern whooped in her ear. ‘Arrested twenty minutes ago. We’re bringing him back to Carlisle this evening. No resistance, no bloodshed, thank goodness, he came like a lamb in the end. I’m told he seemed glad it was over, and wanted to talk.’

‘Before the lawyers get at him?’ Hannah felt triumph surging through her. A good end to a horrible day, a day she would never forget. ‘Brilliant.’

‘Well, yes and no.’ Fern sighed. ‘At the moment, he’s in denial. Insisting he didn’t touch Terri.’

‘You can’t be serious.’

‘’Fraid so. He claims she was already dead when he found her.’

Louise and Hannah were up the next morning, consuming a virtuous breakfast of muesli and grapes, washed down by camomile tea, long before Daniel stirred. Hannah was glad that Louise didn’t talk for the sake of making conversation. Daniel’s sister was a woman after her own heart, someone who understood the pleasure of the companionable silence. Not like Terri; that relationship had been founded on the attraction of opposites.

Terri, oh God. This time yesterday, with Marc’s prospects of recovering from his car crash weighing on her mind, she’d never dreamt she’d seen her friend for the last time. Rewind forty-eight hours, and she couldn’t have imagined getting caught pretty much
in flagrante
with Greg Wharf. Terri loved her horoscopes, but who in their right mind wanted to look into the future? Better not to know.

‘Why don’t you stay here for a while?’ Louise suggested.

Hannah’s first instinct was to say no. Last night, before
she fell asleep, she’d wondered if Louise wanted to create the opportunity for her to get together with Daniel. Even if she did, so what? Hannah was a big girl, able to make her own choices.

Not that you’ve made many good ones lately
, a small voice in her head complained. She fixed on a smile. At least the sun had ventured out, pale fingers of brightness creeping into the kitchen like apprehensive children, expecting to be chastised for staying away too long.

‘Thanks, that’s kind. One more night would be wonderful, but then I’d better get back to Undercrag. There’s loads to do, getting the place in a fit state for showing people round. Although there’s no way I can be involved in the investigation personally, I want to keep in close touch with Fern. Find out if Stefan’s changed his tune.’

‘Why would he bother to lie?’

‘He’ll be in denial. You’d be surprised how common it is. Criminals hate facing up to reality.’

‘Perhaps that’s why they are criminals?’

‘Yeah, Stefan’s a violent man, but as far as I know, he never killed anybody before. Once the red mist lifted, he’s panicked and done a runner. On his way down to London, he probably decided it was safer to opt for Plan B.’

‘Which is?’

‘Fern may not find it easy to build a watertight case, especially if his brief advises him to keep his mouth shut. With any luck, Forensics will produce a few aces, but if he admits he was present at the crime scene, and just denies that he harmed a hair on Terri’s head, we’ll need evidence to persuade a jury. Linking him to the murder weapon may be the key.’

‘We didn’t see anything lying near the … the body.’

Louise’s voice wavered as the memory of discovering Terri’s remains came back to her. Stumbling across a disfigured corpse was a long way out of an academic lawyer’s comfort zone. Not that Hannah would ever become comfortable about murder. Each death hurt as much as the last, each wasted life left her with a nagging ache of frustration and loss. Did this inability to detach herself from the horrors of the job explain why her career had stalled? She hadn’t been close to any of the other victims whose murders she’d tried to solve. God alone knew what would have happened if she’d been the one to discover Terri lying battered to death on the sodden ground. She began to clear the table.

‘The rain won’t have helped, washing away footprints, and making life harder for the forensic people. Fern isn’t sure what Stefan used to kill Terri, some sort of blunt instrument is all I know. The odds are, he brought the weapon to the scene. I suppose he might have found a stone lying around and used that, but it seems unlikely. And why would he take it away with him, if it wasn’t easy to connect it to him? Assuming he did take it from the scene, and not just chuck it away?’

‘It could be lying at the bottom of the beck, or hidden somewhere in the undergrowth. Ravenbank’s a small area, but it’s densely wooded and thick with ferns and bracken. I suppose your people will make a fingertip search?’

‘If the weapon’s there to be found, we’ll find it. Worst case scenario, it was something small enough for him to throw into Ullswater, and we have to think about bringing in divers. The pathologists should be able to give us a clue
about what we are looking for. Mind you, he drove from Ravenbank to Glenridding after the murder, and there are countless potential dumping grounds on that route.’

‘So there’s a risk you’ll never lay your hands on it, unless he’s prepared to co-operate?’

‘It’s not the end of the world. For the sake of argument, suppose the wounds were inflicted by a baseball bat, and we can prove he bought one yesterday, he may struggle to give a credible explanation of why it’s vanished. Trouble is, building a case takes time, even when you reckon it’s open and shut.’

‘Gertrude Smith was battered with a stone, Daniel told me. What about the Australian woman?’

‘As far as I know, the weapon was never found. The assumption was that Craig Meek disposed of it. Perhaps he threw it into Ullswater, nobody knows. The forensic people reckoned a piece of wood was used, but what it was, nobody knew for sure. Since there was never going to be a trial, it wasn’t worth losing sleep over precisely how the victim died. Besides, there’s always pressure from on high to save the cost of in-depth forensic work.’ She mimicked outrage. ‘“Where’s my money going?” With a live suspect, this case is very different.’

Louise joined Hannah at the sink as the kitchen door opened. ‘Good afternoon. Welcome back to the land of the living. You’ll be pleased to know, Hannah’s staying with us again tonight.’

Daniel rubbed bleary eyes. ‘Great. Any coffee in the pot?’

‘Better make some yourself, we’ve been drinking tea.’

Hannah watched him spoon coffee into a filter. In white
T-shirt and blue jeans, he could have passed at first glance for a teenager. A skinny man with tousled hair, whose manner suggested boundless curiosity. He liked finding things out; if he looked straight at you, it seemed he could read your mind. When they’d first met, he’d been haggard, as if he’d not had a decent night’s sleep since the suicide of his partner Aimee. Since then he’d put on a few pounds – but only a few – and started to laugh again. It lifted her heart to see the change in him, to recognise the proof that you could overcome terrible loss, that life truly does go on.

He interrupted her reverie. ‘So what are your plans for today, Hannah?’

‘Off to Carlisle in a few minutes. Fern is there today, conducting a press conference, and reporting to the top brass. What about you?’

‘I thought I’d dig into the murder of Gertrude Smith. See if there’s anything in Melody’s theory.’ He hesitated. ‘You’re still confident Stefan killed Terri?’

‘Why, do you doubt it?’

‘How did he know where to find Terri? Not even you knew about Robin Park, or that she was spending Hallowe’en in Ravenbank.’

‘Presumably he followed her there.’

‘On Hallowe’en? She turned up at Fell View during the afternoon, I heard. So Stefan hung around there, all that time, waiting for his chance to strike?’

‘He’s a deranged stalker, that’s how they operate.’

‘So he kept well hidden. All the time we were wandering about in the early hours, trying to spot the ghost of Gertrude Smith, he was nowhere to be seen.’

‘It was dark, and you’d all spent the night drinking.’

‘Sure, but what about his car? A Ford Fiesta, didn’t you say? Where would he have parked it?’

Hannah wasn’t familiar with the east side of Ullswater; she’d last called at Howtown on a steamer trip with an early boyfriend fifteen years ago. ‘There must be plenty of places you can leave a car unobtrusively. Somewhere between Martindale and Ravenbank?’

‘How could he be confident of finding Terri on her own?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine. He got lucky because Robin Park was taken ill. Otherwise, Terri would have been with Robin.’

‘What if,’ Louise said, ‘Terri and Stefan arranged to meet in the small hours, after the party was over?’

‘No way. One thing I can promise you, Terri had no wish to see Stefan ever again.’

‘She was a creature of impulse, wasn’t she? Robin’s illness might have given her an opportunity. Suppose Stefan rang up and persuaded her, for one last time …’

‘He can’t have called her mobile,’ Daniel objected. ‘Don’t you remember? She’d lost it earlier that day. I suppose he might have contacted her before then, but …’

‘Lost it?’ Hannah raised her eyebrows. ‘Terri loved that wretched phone, never went anywhere without it. How did she come to mislay it?’

‘No idea.’ Daniel drank some coffee. ‘She didn’t know herself. I can’t imagine he called on the landline, at the house of the man who’d taken his place. Whilst we’re debating little mysteries, why did Stefan try to imitate the previous killings?’

Hannah shrugged. ‘Trying to establish a connection with Shenagh’s death, taking himself out of the frame?’

‘Mmmmm … maybe.’

‘Look, are you suggesting that Stefan didn’t kill Terri?’

‘Historians are just as bad as prosecutors,’ he said. ‘We don’t jump to conclusions, we look for evidence.’

Hannah flinched. ‘Ouch.’

‘Hey, Daniel,’ Louise said. ‘This isn’t some university debating society, you know.’

He coloured. ‘Sorry, Hannah. This whole business is heartbreaking for you. I should have …’

‘Forget it,’ Hannah said. ‘It does Terri no favours if the wrong man is accused of killing her. I just can’t believe Stefan is innocent. She was genuinely frightened by him, and Terri didn’t scare easily.’

‘What if,’ Daniel said, ‘someone in Ravenbank took advantage of that, to pin the blame for the murder on an outsider?’

His question echoed in Hannah’s head on the journey up the motorway to Carlisle. She liked his reluctance to settle for easy answers. Long before they’d met, she’d heard enough about him from Ben to be intrigued. She couldn’t imagine lecturing to large audiences, or making a name for herself on TV, but Daniel took it all in his stride. In person, his quiet self-assurance was daunting. She could never match it. Ben used to berate her for underestimating herself, told her it was simply a matter of having belief.

Whatever. One thing she did believe was that Terri, her own worst enemy, had allowed the unspeakable Stefan to take revenge for her desertion. He was selfish enough to believe that if he couldn’t have the woman he wanted, nobody else could.

When she reached Carlisle, Fern was waiting for her. They found a cubbyhole near a vending machine, and Fern gulped down a black coffee before making inroads on a Mars bar. The rings beneath her eyes testified to a night with little sleep. Like most detectives leading a murder inquiry, she was fuelled by adrenaline and junk food.

‘Do you want the good news or the bad news?’ she demanded.

‘I’m in the mood for good news, to be honest.’

‘He’s instructed Dizzy Gillespie to act for him.’

At last, a stroke of luck. The dead jazz trumpeter himself would make a more formidable adversary. Gervase W. Gillespie owed his nickname less to flair for music than to a lifelong love of alcohol matched by his lack of ability to cope with it. Rumour had it that he’d never learnt to drive, on the basis that he realised he’d never keep his licence, so he travelled everywhere by taxi. He was a sole practitioner, mainly because nobody had ever wanted to take him into partnership, and ran a tiny office above a fishmonger’s in Keswick. He earned a crust in the criminal and divorce courts of Cumbria, taking the cases that didn’t offer enough profit to bigger firms. Somehow he’d managed to avoid being struck off the roll of solicitors; the word was that the Law Society thought that keeping a sad old drunk in business demonstrated their commitment to diversity within the profession.

‘Wow, a lucky break. Has he advised Deyna to confess yet?’

‘That’s the bad news I mentioned. The man is sticking to his story like glue. At first, we thought we were quids in, when Dizzy said he was happy for his client to answer
our questions, not hide behind a wall of no-comments. But Stefan is fighting tooth and nail.’

‘What does he have to say for himself?’

‘Maintains he’s the victim of a mysterious conspiracy, would you believe?’

‘Does he deny stalking Terri?’

‘He admits they had issues. He’s latched on to the phrase “unfinished business”, claims that’s why he kept pestering her.’

‘And stealing her cat?’

‘He’s coughed to that, and to sending Terri the decapitation photo. Said he did it to teach her a lesson. Reckons she wasn’t into pets, and didn’t take good care of Morrissey. He found Morrissey roaming around when he called at Terri’s, so he took it home. Never meant to harm the creature, on the contrary. He sent the photo as a kind of rebuke. I gather the cat’s well nourished, and he’s done his best to look after it.’

‘A candidate for sainthood, eh? What about the murder?’

‘He claims Terri texted him and said she was willing to meet.’

‘Lying toad.’

‘Wait a minute.’ Fern finished her Mars bar and bought another. ‘It’s not quite as ridiculous as you may think.’

‘Have you seen the text?’

‘Nah, he deleted it.’

‘Surprise, surprise. What did it say – allegedly?’

‘He says she offered to meet him at Ravenbank at two in the morning.’

‘And he believed that? Jesus, he must think we’re soft.’

Fern crushed the chocolate wrappers in her hand. ‘His
story is, he was desperate to see her again. He’d bombarded her with calls, and never had a response.’

‘A rendezvous in the small hours on a freezing autumn night, in the middle of nowhere?’ Hannah shook her head. ‘It makes no sense.’

‘He didn’t see it that way. She was with another bloke, it might be difficult to get away from him to see her ex. He thought she was going to sneak out while Park was snoring.’

‘Bollocks. Why should she?’

‘His wasn’t to reason why. When she changed her mind about seeing him, out of the blue, he didn’t ask questions, just grabbed his chance.’

Hannah groaned. ‘All right, then what?’

‘His story is that she asked to meet him at Ravenbank Corner, where two lanes cross.’

‘How far is that from Park’s house?’