Authors: Martin Edwards
‘As a matter of fact, he’s moving on. He’s applied to be redeployed as part of the team restructure.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘I told you, the other night was a dreadful mistake. I know it, and so does Greg.’ Though that wasn’t quite the point he’d made earlier this afternoon. ‘Anyway …’
‘I’d better get back to Grange, before this fog worsens.’
He paused. ‘It’s rotten about Terri, I know you thought the world of her.’
‘Yes, I did. Thanks very much for bringing back the keys. Give my love to your mum.’
He gave her a look, as if to say:
Who are you kidding?
‘Goodbye, Hannah.’
‘Take care.’
She closed the door, and tossed the envelope onto a small table in the hall. Well, well, her life was getting less complicated by the minute. First Greg, now Marc. And it might be foggy outside, but her head was clearing.
There was a reason why she felt nervy and excited – though she’d refused to admit it, even to herself – each time she heard Daniel’s voice. It wasn’t because he was his father’s son. He was interested in her, but he was determined not to show it, because he felt she wasn’t ready. Considerate of him, but clever as he was, he’d miscalculated. The truth was simple. He meant more to her than Marc and Greg put together.
‘See what I mean?’ Melody demanded.
She and Daniel stood side by side on the shore, peering into the empty boathouse. It jutted out over a tiny inlet, close to the tip of the promontory. The Knights had replaced the rotting timber, and given it a fresh coat of white paint, as well as tiling the roof with new green slates. Daniel dared not guess the cost. A rich man’s whim, but now the rich man had gone AWOL.
‘What do you think is in his mind?’ Daniel asked.
‘I daren’t imagine,’ she said. ‘I’m so afraid.’
‘Does he often row over to Patterdale, or Glenridding?’
‘Hardly at all these days, the novelty has worn off. And never in weather as foul as this.’
The chill air nipped at Daniel’s skin as if it had teeth, but she wasn’t talking about the temperature. Fog was rolling down from the fells that circled Ullswater, anonymising familiar scenes, blotting out fields and houses with a relentless tide of grey. Visibility was shrinking by the minute. Soon the lake would disappear beneath a cold and eerie blanket.
Yes, nobody in his right mind would row out on such an afternoon, but Daniel was no longer sure Oz Knight was in his right mind. It still wasn’t impossible that he’d simply wandered off on his own to blow away the cobwebs. Melody couldn’t be one hundred per cent certain he had taken the boat out, but he’d thrown away his mobile close by, and
King Ulf
was nowhere to be seen.
‘Is something preying on his conscience?’
‘What?’ She almost choked with anger. ‘He’s facing bankruptcy, and the last time I let him try to make love to me, he couldn’t even get it up. So much for the smart businessman and the smooth Lothario. Is that enough to satisfy your curiosity, Daniel, is that what you want to hear?’
Her venom made him flinch. ‘About Terri’s death. If there’s anything …’
‘No!’ She cried out as if in pain. ‘What are you suggesting? Oz isn’t a violent man. He liked Terri. He’d never have harmed a hair on her head.’
‘What about Shenagh – might he have harmed her?’
‘Don’t be stupid!’ she shrieked. ‘My husband would never kill anyone. Let alone a woman who drove him almost
insane with lust. He’s beaten, don’t you see? Everything he’s worked for is in ruins, and Terri’s murder is the final straw.’
He clenched his fists, fighting for calm. ‘Sorry, Melody, but we won’t help Oz by arguing. Will you ring the police or shall I?’
She pulled out her mobile. ‘I’ll do it. And I’ll go and fetch the people from Fell View. It will be quicker if I run along the shore, than going back down Ravenbank Lane.’
‘Okay, I’ll stay here till reinforcements arrive.’
She hurried away down the shore path. He saw her speak into the phone, and when the call was over, break into a graceful, loping run. He watched until the path climbed upwards and away from the water, and she vanished into the trees.
He gazed out across the lake. The fog was freezing, and denser than it had been even five minutes earlier. What was Oz Knight playing at? Was he intent on suicide? His throat dry, Daniel wondered if he might yet come face to face with a corpse for the second time in a week. For all the warm lining of his jacket, he found it impossible to stop shivering.
He strained his eyes, peering into the murk. An image sprang into his mind from the macabre story he’d read at Watendlath. A flesh-creeping picture of a misshapen oarsman, a great grey nodding sponge, rowing to his doom.
The fog, like the nameless evil in ‘The Voice in the Night’, was slow and silent and remorseless, consuming everything it encountered. Soon it would devour Ravenbank. All the landmarks he could identify were
disappearing, one by one. The clawing intensity of the cold gnawing at his skin possessed a vindictiveness he’d seldom experienced before; it had become an enemy, intent upon destruction.
He realised now that to think of the fog as a blanket was too cosy, too comfortable. There was nothing homely about this scene. He might be anywhere, or nowhere. Sinister and irresistible, the fog was spreading and stretching. Soon it would devour Ravenbank, as if in punishment for a history of one hundred years of violent death.
Already the lake had disappeared. Buried beneath – how eerily appropriate – a frozen shroud.
‘They must find him soon,’ Melody whispered. ‘He wasn’t wearing any waterproof gear and he’s been on the lake for over an hour now. How long can he last … in this?’
They were standing on the shore, peering out into fog and darkness, because they didn’t know what else to do. Quin and Jeffrey Burgoyne had joined them; so had Robin and Miriam Park. Like mourners at a graveside.
The police officers at Fell View Cottage had triggered a Lake Rescue Plan. There was an established routine when someone got into trouble on Ullswater, starting with a ring-round of declared resources. The volunteers from Patterdale Mountain Rescue Team were at the heart of things, coordinating operations along with the coastguard team, and the fire brigade.
The team leader, himself a former cop, had quizzed Melody, looking for flesh to clothe the bare bones of a whereabouts feasibility study. Was there a particular
destination that Oz would make for? What might be in his mind? Flailing around like a rag doll, Melody offered no clues. Oz had never done anything like this before. She felt she was living a nightmare from which she’d never wake up.
‘There’s no shortage of boats out looking for him,’ Jeffrey said. ‘The Outward Bound Trust, the steamship company, the Mountain Rescue team, they’re all on the case. Searching the shoreline, traversing the lake. The police have organised divers, the Mountain Rescue Team’s dogs are searching the shore to see if he’s run aground. They will find him, you can depend on it.’
‘They’ll find his dead body, you mean.’
Melody buried her head in her hands. The cool, elegant woman from the conference – was it really less than one week ago? – had become flaky and frightened. She began to wail, a hideous, keening sound, like an animal caught in a trap.
Miriam Park wrapped a strong arm around her, squeezing tight, trying to hush her. The family liaison officer had offered to stay with them, but Miriam had said there was no need; she’d spent a lifetime looking after people.
‘You have to grit your teeth, dear,’ she said. ‘It’s the only way to survive when things go wrong.’
‘You don’t understand. It’s … over.’
‘Hush, you don’t know what you’re saying.’ Miriam hesitated, and Daniel imagined her mental cogs whirring. ‘In any case, what on earth do you mean?’
‘We’re both ruined. Our business is dead in the water.’ A bitter laugh. ‘And so will Oz be, if this goes on any longer.’
‘You don’t think that he had anything to do with … what happened?’
Melody shrieked, as if a knitting needle had been stuck
into her stomach. ‘I don’t know
what
to think any more!’
One of the police officers had told Daniel that, within minutes of receiving the call, the Mountain Rescue team was in the thick of the action. They’d launched their rigid inflatable craft from the pier at Glenridding. Twenty feet long, with massive lights rigged up on a gantry, he said. But in a white-out as dense as this, light scattered when it hit an object – you couldn’t see further than the hand in front of your face. Melody needed to cling to the volunteers’ years of experience, and their track record of saving countless lives, often out when all else failed.
‘The rescuers will find him soon.’ Jeffrey was in tower-of-strength mode, as if playing a part in a British stiff-upper-lip movie made just after the war. ‘Depend upon it. He may have found a sheltered spot. Near the bay at Howtown, perhaps.’
‘The prevailing wind rushes down from the top of the Kirkstone Pass,’ Robin muttered. ‘It would blow a boat further on, towards the north end of the lake.’
His mother said, ‘If he has any sense, he’ll be lying down in that boat, trying to keep warm.’
‘In weather like this,’ Jeffrey pronounced, ‘your core temperature can drop like a stone.’
‘It’s getting darker,’ Robin said. ‘Chances are, they’ll call off the search until first light tomorrow.’
‘Oh God!’ Melody said. ‘They can’t do that, surely? He won’t survive a night out in … that.’
‘They won’t give up easily, take it from me,’ Jeffrey said. ‘All we can do is wait for news.’
‘The lake is so deep,’ Melody said. ‘I can’t bear to think of it …’
‘Ullswater is deceptive,’ Quin said. ‘Only sixty metres deep, but under the surface, it’s like … well, the Mariana Trench. Tiered, like a huge jelly mould, the sides don’t taper away gradually. Anyone who goes overboard will likely finish up on one of the shelves.’
‘That’s enough!’ Jeffrey snapped. ‘Can’t you see what Melody is going through?’
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean …’
Quin’s voice trailed away. Difficult to make out his expression, in conditions as vile as these, but he didn’t sound apologetic. Daniel thought he was more like a small boy, thrilled by the drama, moving restlessly up and down the shoreline, barely able to contain his excitement.
Was he hoping Oz wouldn’t make it?
‘Major new development.’ Fern tried in vain to suppress a note of jubilation. ‘Sorry I’m running late, but I had to stop on the road and take the call.’
‘No worries,’ Hannah said into her phone. ‘What’s up?’
‘Oz Knight is lost on Ullswater. Apparently he set off in a rowing boat with the fog coming down. Melody and Daniel raised the alarm. An intensive search is under way.’
‘Jesus. Suicide attempt?’
‘Looks that way. I hope to God they find him soon. Out there on a night like this, he won’t last too long. Drowning himself in lieu of a confession would be deeply unsatisfactory. Though look on the bright side, it would save a lot of paperwork.’
‘Yeah,’ Hannah said coolly. ‘Like Craig Meek’s car crash.’
‘Ouch.’ Fern hesitated. ‘Of course, you’re right. Don’t want to jump to conclusions, do we?’
‘Perish the thought.’
‘Okay, my wrists are duly slapped. I’ll get to Undercrag as soon as I can.’
After much patient coaxing, Jeffrey convinced Melody that the six of them were doing no good, standing outside in the freezing cold, staring into nothingness. Better to get into the warm, and await developments. At first, she insisted on remaining there on her own, keeping a vigil on the shore, but her resolve crumbled, and in the end she trudged back with them through the fog towards the safe haven of the Hall.
Once they were inside, Miriam took charge, making strong tea, and fussing around as if Melody was a patient from the days when the Hall was a care home. She’d nursed Esme Palladino here, and the thought struck Daniel that Francis Palladino might have ended up happier if he’d made a new life with his unprepossessing but capable housekeeper, rather than glamorous Shenagh Moss. But experience had taught him that life and love have little to do with logic.
He shared the colossal L-shaped sofa with Jeffrey sprawling on one side of him, Quin and Robin Park on the other. Robin said
sotto voce
, ‘If you ask me, this could be a blessing in disguise.’
‘Too right,’ Quin murmured. ‘Frankly, he had this coming.’
Daniel glanced at Jeffrey, and saw that he’d heard the exchange. He was keeping his counsel. Brow furrowed, lips
clamped shut. A faint sheen glistened on his forehead. He must be out of condition if the mild exertion of walking up from the shore made him sweat.
Both Robin Park and Quin were constructing narratives that cast Oz as Terri’s murderer. Daniel wasn’t sure whether they genuinely believed this or simply found it convenient to have a fresh scapegoat in place of Stefan. As for Melody, how much did she know, and what did she believe? Sitting in a vast recliner, with her eyes closed, she looked unexpectedly at peace. Impossible to guess what thoughts were spinning through her mind.
The phone rang, shattering the quiet. With a muffled cry, Melody opened her eyes. She put her hand to her mouth.
‘I’ll get it.’ Miriam picked up the receiver. ‘Hello? Do you want to speak to Mrs Knight?’
Melody shook her head frantically. Miriam listened to someone speaking at the other end of the line. Her eyes flickered with anxiety.
‘Yes? … yes, I see. Well, thank you … I’ll tell her, of course.’
She put the receiver down and heaved a sigh.
‘They’ve found Oz …’
‘Thank God!’ Jeffrey interrupted, wiping his forehead with a theatrical flourish.
Miriam’s frown of reproach reminded Daniel of a teacher rebuking an ill-mannered pupil. ‘The wind had driven his boat to Sharrow Bay.’
‘How is he, Mum?’
Robin sounded nervous, and Quin was chewing his fingernails.
‘He’s still breathing, but barely conscious. They reckon he’s suffering from hypothermia. An ambulance is taking him to hospital right now. He’s in a bad way.’
Fern was still tucking into her Stromboli De Luxe when Hannah took a call from Daniel. Leaning against the kitchen table, she listened to the latest news, along with an outline of the Knights’ troubles, and Jeffrey Burgoyne’s habit of inflicting domestic violence on Alex Quinlan.
‘Interesting,’ Hannah said. ‘Fern is spending the night here, so I’ll brief her. I’d be glad of full chapter and verse about your conversations with people who were at the Knights’ party. Can we get together tomorrow? Will you be at Brackdale, or are you on your travels?’
‘I was planning to go back in time. I’ve decided the history of murder suits me much better than homicide in the here and now. When Melody begged me to come back to Ravenbank, I was on my way to Keswick Museum. I meant to go there tomorrow morning, but if …’
‘No, no, don’t change your plans. Let’s meet in Keswick.’
‘Fine, lunch at the theatre? With any luck, we’ll bump into Jeffrey and Quin, so you can kill two birds with one stone. Their show launches next week, and they will be rehearsing.’
‘Perfect.’
Fern refilled their glasses with Chablis as Hannah updated her. Marc had laid down some cases of fine wine a few weeks before moving out, and she’d come across them at the weekend during a clear-out of the cellar. It would be rude, as Fern agreed, to let them go to waste. And absolutely stupid to hand them back to him.
‘Well, well.’ She washed down the last of her pizza with a large gulp of wine and burped happily. ‘So Ben’s lad is doing some detective work of his own?’
‘He’s in the thick of this case, after helping to find Terri’s body. Possibly he’ll get more out of one or two witnesses than we can. People find him easy to talk to, he’s a brilliant listener. Plus, I suppose, they enjoy rubbing shoulders with someone who used to be on telly.’
‘Yeah, yeah, I’m not complaining. We keep running these campaigns to ask members of the public to help us, after all. Daniel’s one of the good guys.’ She chortled. ‘Wouldn’t kick him out of bed, either.’
‘Behave.’
‘Just saying.’ Fern guffawed, but a piece of pizza stuck in her throat, and she half-choked herself. ‘Oh God, serves me right, I know. All right, where are we up to? Let’s kick off by leaving Deyna out of the equation. Odious creep, but I’m sure he was set up.’
‘Like Craig Meek.’
‘Yeah, yeah, déjà vu all over again. Daniel guessed right, by the way. The Knights sleep in separate rooms. They were totally upfront about it when they were interviewed. According to their statements, they went straight to bed after the ghost hunt. With an estimated time of death in the early hours of that morning, neither of them has an alibi.’
Hannah fished a couple of Mars bar ice creams out of the freezer. Fern’s ideal dessert recipe involved having her Mars bars deep fried, but this was the best she could do. ‘Five years ago, they were sleeping together. At least, that’s what they said at the time when they made statements
and gave each other alibis. Question is whether they were telling porkies.’
‘Why would they lie last time, but tell the truth now?’
‘Relationships change over time,’ Hannah said. ‘Cold case work has brought that home to me. Love fades, loyalties shift.’
‘Ha! Tell me about it.’ Fern had had her share of romantic disasters.
‘Say Oz was afraid of being suspected of Shenagh’s murder, and spun Melody a yarn, asking her to lie for him. I bet she was under his thumb. He was rich, powerful, controlling. With Shenagh out of the way, she’d have him to herself again. It’s different now. If his business is stuffed, she’ll need to make a new life. He’s lost his hold on her, she doesn’t need him any more.’
Fern sank her teeth into the chocolate. ‘Mmmm, just what the doctor ordered. The stress counsellor, anyway. Seems to me, we need to have a word with Mr Knight, as soon as he’s in a fit state.’
‘Assuming he recovers.’
‘He’ll recover,’ Fern said briskly. ‘Mild hypothermia won’t kill him, he won’t so much as lose a little toe. His body has a decent layer of fat. All those expense account meals have come in handy, even if he couldn’t afford the expense account.’
‘I’m assuming you see this as attempted suicide?’
‘Well, he wasn’t admiring the scenery on a day like today, was he?’
‘So it’s a sign of guilt?’
‘I’d prefer a signed confession approved by his lawyers, but beggars can’t be choosers. This little mishap will take
some explaining. Oh, if he doesn’t cough when he wakes up, I expect he’ll say he couldn’t face the prospect of financial ruin, and decided to row off into oblivion. But I’ll get the truth out of him, one way or another.’
‘You’re confident he did it?’
‘He has to be a strong favourite. Obsessed with Shenagh, unable to let go.’
‘I see from the old file that Francis Palladino said she’d persuaded him to go out to Australia with her.’
‘Yeah, that tickled me. She was giving up Oz – so she could go to Oz.’ Fern’s massive boobs wobbled as she guffawed. ‘Francis said the Hall held unhappy memories because of his wife’s long illness, and a warmer climate would benefit his arthritis.’
‘According to the notes Les made, Oz had already put in an offer to buy the Hall.’
Fern rubbed her chins. ‘Actually, you’re right. I remember now. Though with Shenagh dead, Francis stayed put until he died.’
‘Which means Oz had conflicting emotions about Shenagh’s impending emigration. He’d lose an ex-lover, and gain a big posh house.’
‘Swings and roundabouts, huh? I see where you’re going with this. If Oz meant to buy the Hall, he’d reconciled himself to losing Shenagh.’