The Frozen Shroud (25 page)

Hannah considered. ‘Ambiguous.’

‘Precisely. Those five words offered a narrative to suit the survivors. Letty had killed Gertrude out of jealousy, and for fear of what would happen if Clifford threw her and Dorothy onto the scrapheap.’

‘But?’

‘Roland was confined to bed with a fever for a week after the two deaths. Nerve-related, I guess. As soon as he was fit enough, he had to pack his bags and leave. Over time, he began to put pieces together. On Hallowe’en, because he couldn’t sleep, he’d got up just before midnight, and gone downstairs to make himself a drink. From the window, he glimpsed a slight figure wrapped in a heavy coat and scarf, sneaking out of the house. The figure stayed under the trees, skirting the open drive, but heading for Ravenbank Lane.’

‘Gertrude, off to meet Hodgkinson?’

As she spoke, instinct told her she was on the wrong track. So did the look on Daniel’s face.

‘Dorothy, on her way to kill Gertrude.’

For a moment, Hannah was lost for words. He grinned. ‘Okay, let me get the coffees.’

When he returned from the counter with two steaming cups, Hannah said, ‘Call myself a detective? I should have seen that coming.’

He didn’t patronise her by arguing. ‘Roland didn’t recognise Dorothy at first, but the more he mulled it over, the more convinced he became that he’d seen his pupil, setting out to murder her father’s mistress. And she was carrying something. Roland’s theory was that it was a large stone, wrapped in a blanket.’

‘Right.’ Hannah exhaled. ‘The murder weapon and the Frozen Shroud.’

‘Once his suspicion focused on the girl, everything made sense. In particular, Letty’s note. Of course, in her mentally and emotionally fragile state, she felt she had to do it. She had to kill herself and take the blame for Gertrude’s murder, because otherwise her daughter’s guilt would be discovered.’

‘Why did Letty suspect her own daughter of murdering a servant?’

‘Letty knew Dorothy better than anyone, much more than doting Daddy. She had an idea what the kid was capable of. She was also an insomniac. The doctor had prescribed heavy duty sleeping pills, but she kept refusing to take them. Roland suspected that she’d looked outside and spotted Dorothy, just as he’d done. He also wondered if Dorothy had said something to her mother that gave the game away.’

‘I hate to be a damp squib, but aren’t there holes in this theory? How did Dorothy lure Gertrude out onto Ravenbank Lane?’

‘She didn’t. Gertrude was due to head for Beck Cottage that night, as usual, for her rendezvous with Hodgkinson. But Hodgkinson was out for the count. When news came that Gertrude’s body had been found, he had to be roused from a deep sleep, though he was usually an early riser. Roland reckoned Dorothy slipped some of her mother’s sleeping pills into her father’s cocoa. Having knocked him out, the coast was clear for her to kill the housemaid.’

‘Dorothy was only a little girl.’

‘Five years younger than Gertrude, but fit and strong. Her obituary mentioned she was a keen mountaineer. Polio had withered Gertrude’s right arm, and if she was attacked out of the blue, she couldn’t have defended herself.’

‘But the brutality of the murder …’

‘Children are as capable of hate as any adult. Dorothy battered Gertrude’s face with the stone, and then she draped the blanket over the bloody mess. My guess is that the enormity of her crime struck her as soon as she took a look at what she had done, and she couldn’t bear the sight of it. Hence the shroud.’

‘Why in God’s name did Roland keep his mouth shut?’

‘He recorded his agonies in the diary. Harrowing to read, but also frustrating. Poor Roland made Hamlet look decisive. To be fair, he had no corroborative evidence. It was all guesswork, and he baulked at accusing a child of a brutal murder when everyone blamed it on her mother. Besides, he felt personal responsibility. When he told Dorothy what Gertrude had said to him, he robbed her of the last hope that her family could remain intact. She blamed Gertrude, not her father. I suppose she couldn’t face the thought that he was prepared to abandon her
for someone she regarded as a trollop. Roland took his duties seriously. He was
in loco parentis
, and he’d failed to understand the extent of Dorothy’s desperation. If he spoke out, he ran the risk of making a catastrophic situation even worse.’

Hannah said slowly, ‘And when the war broke out, he joined up, reckless as to whether he lived or died.’

‘Correct. Afterwards he forged a new life as an educator. Trying to atone? I dunno, I need to read the rest of the diaries. It wasn’t until he was dying that he met Dorothy again.’

‘When they had the exchange that Miriam Park overheard.’

‘Hence the codicil to his will. He couldn’t expose Dorothy at that late stage, and probably he didn’t want to. She acknowledged her guilt to him, if only tacitly. Nor did he want the truth to be buried forever. He was dying, and it mattered little to him whether the story came out in five years or fifty. He settled for leaving it to be dug up by a researcher who shared his academic interests, and had the time and inclination to wade through his journals.’

‘Enter Daniel Kind.’

‘It had to be someone. It just so happened it was me.’

She tasted her coffee. ‘It’s taken a very long time.’

‘Unravelling secrets of history often does.’

‘Meanwhile Dorothy salved her conscience by involving herself with good works?’

‘It’s not such a bad way to pay your dues. The murder was horrendous, but she was only a child. I’m sure she killed Gertrude because she couldn’t imagine how else to prevent the destruction of everything she held dear.’

‘So Melody Knight got it spot on,’ Hannah said.
‘Gertrude was denied justice, because her murderer was never identified. No wonder her ghost has continued to walk. Will you tell Melody what you’ve discovered?’

‘I doubt she still cares.’ He shrugged. ‘Right now, Melody has more to worry about than a mystery that’s taken a century to solve.’

‘How is Terri’s father coping?’ Daniel asked, as they made their way to the Studio Theatre. ‘She said he’d been unwell lately.’

‘No idea, to be honest. I’ve never had his contact details, but he left a message at Divisional HQ for me yesterday, saying he wasn’t fit enough to fly back to England for the funeral. It was the first time I’ve heard from him since Terri and I were kids, before he ran off with another woman. Terri’s mum died some years ago, and so did her brother, who was older. Neither of our families was close-knit, it was one of the things we had in common.’

Daniel halted outside the entrance to the Studio. ‘Fly back to England? Is he on holiday abroad?’

‘No, he lives in the States. After his second marriage broke down, he met a Spanish-American woman, and followed her back to Florida, where he found a job in a
bar. As Terri said, his twin passions were beer and sex, so he had the time of his life until his lady died of cirrhosis of the liver. Last I heard, he’d been diagnosed with cancer. Terri was upset, naturally. She reckoned she’d not been a good enough daughter, but that was rubbish. He wasn’t a good enough father.’

‘Did you know Terri and Robin Park were planning to move to be nearer to him?’

‘What?’ Hannah almost choked in disbelief. ‘They meant to emigrate to Florida?’

‘If that’s where he still lives, yes. All she said was that because of his illness, she wanted to be closer to him.’

Hannah felt as if someone had slid a needle into her flesh. Was it childish to feel betrayed? Over the years, they’d shared so many secrets, yet all of a sudden, she realised she hadn’t a clue about Terri’s life.

He put a hand on her arm, a simple gesture that gave her a frisson. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes, yes. It’s just … a surprise, that’s all.’

Why hadn’t Terri said anything sooner, when she was happy to tell strangers at a fancy dress party? One of the world’s great blabbermouths hadn’t dropped the tiniest hint to her closest friend of her intention to move to America. Then again, late at night after they’d both had plenty to drink, she’d come close to saying something, until Hannah’s reaction discouraged her. The clues were there. She knew Terri’s dad was ill, she should have realised that blood was thicker than water. Perhaps Terri feared Hannah would be jealous of her new life. After all, her relationship with Marc was shot to pieces, her cold case team was about to be ripped apart.

Hannah felt anger surge inside her as she realised Terri must have pitied her.

Quietly, Daniel led the way through a gap in the long black curtains that ran around the Studio. With a hundred seats, and set up in traverse, the Studio was less than a quarter of the size of the main house, but ideal for smaller-scale local productions. At the back, a technician hovered, making tiny adjustments to the lighting to keep it subdued.

Script in hand, Quin stood at the rear of the stage. Jeffrey was sitting three rows back on the right. Quin cleared his throat before speaking in a hushed tone.

‘I sat up, my heart hammering, and then to my horror discerned, slinking against the farther wall, the evillest-looking yellow mongrel of a dog that you can imagine!’

‘Just turn your head a touch towards me, love,’ Jeffrey said. ‘Let me see more of that gorgeous profile!’

Quin twisted his neck a fraction, and repeated his line. As Jeffrey called out, ‘Perfect!’ Quin caught sight of Daniel and lifted his hand in greeting.

‘Don’t be shy, we’re pretty much finished, aren’t we, Jeffrey?’

‘Absolutely. And this must be Hannah! Or should I be formal and say DCI Scarlett? We’ve heard so much about you, do come and say hello!’

Daniel whispered, ‘All sweetness and light again, by the sound of it.’

He and Hannah walked down to join the two men in seats on the front row. After introductions, Jeffrey launched into an explanation of the way he and Quin had been checking to make sure both of them could be seen and heard.

‘You need to include the whole audience in a space like this, not just favour one side. Thankfully, everyone is close up, and the acoustics are nice. You’re on the swivel, on the balls of your feet, all the time you’re on stage.’ Jeffrey beamed, segueing into lecturer mode. Daniel wondered if, beneath the bonhomie, anxiety was making him talkative. ‘Playing here demands loads of energy, but it’s worth it. There’s no other place quite like this. When we tour the production, we’ll adapt it for conventional venues, but the Studio is unique, you’d be amazed how we turn it into a claustrophobic black box. A ghost story is perfect for somewhere quite small, where you can take the volume down low, and draw the audience in. Do come and see the show. We’ve kept a few tickets back …’

‘I’m sure Hannah has other things on her mind,’ Quin interrupted. ‘Can you tell us the latest on Oz? Has he been arrested?’

She gave a brisk, impersonal smile. ‘The doctors say that he should make a good recovery, but so far, he hasn’t been questioned further.’

‘Is it safe to assume he’s your prime suspect? Or is Terri’s stalker still in the running?’

‘It’s not safe to assume anything in a murder investigation,’ Hannah said. ‘I did want to ask you something, though.’

Jeffrey exchanged glances with Quin, and said in a tone of forced jollity, ‘By all means! We don’t need our lawyer present, do we?’

‘It’s about Terri and her plans. She and Robin were going to move away from Ravenbank, weren’t they? To America.’

‘I never heard that,’ Jeffrey said. ‘Frankly, I’d be astonished.’

Daniel said, ‘Melody told me that Terri had resigned to go and live with Robin. She wouldn’t need to pack in her job if she was staying in the area.’

‘But they’d only known each other five minutes, and Robin has always been tied to his mother’s apron strings.’

‘How would Miriam Park have reacted?’ Hannah asked.

‘She would have put her foot down, make no mistake. Whatever Terri may have had in mind, I’m sure Miriam saw the two of them making a life together in Ravenbank, and in due course presenting her with grandchildren to idolise.’

‘That’s why they kept quiet about putting Fell View on the market,’ Quin said.

Jeffrey gaped. ‘You can’t be serious!’

‘Never more so. I saw the pair of them coming out of an estate agents in Station Street on Monday.’

‘You never told me!’

‘Didn’t I? Must have slipped my mind.’ Quin’s grin showed his pleasure in reminding Jeffrey that he could keep a secret. ‘I asked what they were up to, and they said they wanted to sell up and move to Florida. Terri’s dad lives there, and he’s been poorly. But they asked me to keep it to myself for a few days. Miriam still needed to be won round.’

‘She’d have gone into the stratosphere!’

‘Yeah, I wished them luck as far as that was concerned, and Robin said he’d certainly need it. He was dreading the conversation. It was the anniversary of his father’s death, and his mother was bound to be upset.’

‘Yes,’ Hannah said slowly. ‘Terri spent Monday night at my house. He decided it was better to break it to
Miriam one-to-one, rather than have Terri by his side.’

‘Very wise,’ Jeffrey said. ‘It could have become quite … difficult for all concerned.’

‘Which estate agent was it?’ Hannah asked.

Quin told her. ‘I suppose Robin will be staying in Ravenbank for good now.’

‘Not necessarily,’ she said.

‘What do you mean?’

She stood up. ‘Daniel’s done some brilliant detective work, discovering the truth about Gertrude Smith. Fascinating story. Why don’t you listen to him explain while I get back to the job? He’s proved once and for all that history does repeat itself.’

‘Don’t go in there on your own,’ Fern said on the phone.

‘It’s only an idea. We don’t have enough evidence to make an arrest.’

‘Ashok and Jodie are on their way. Two of my young stars. And Ashok’s built like a bull.’

‘I’m not expecting any trouble.’

‘Better safe than sorry.’ Fern paused to let the advice sink in. ‘Okay?’

‘See you later.’

Hannah killed the call, and switched on the ignition. She’d parked at Ravenbank Corner, and, through the crime scene tape, she’d contemplated the muddy ground by the beck for fully five minutes before ringing Fern. So this was where Terri’s life came to its sad and futile end. It was tempting to walk over to the spot, but she’d stayed in the car. Later, there would be time to pay her respects. Now there was work to do.

Soon the whole sorry business would be over. A thrill of anticipation rippled through her. She was convinced she knew the truth.

‘So there is a connection between the murders of Shenagh and Terri?’ Quin asked.

He and Daniel were in the foyer, while Jeffrey talked business with one of the theatre trustees. Both the actors were in high good humour. The first night was a sell-out, and there was only a handful of seats left for the other performances.

Daniel nodded. ‘You were close to Shenagh, weren’t you?’

‘We used to meet late at night in the woods. Her excuse was taking the dog for a walk, mine was that I couldn’t sleep. Jeffrey thought I was downstairs, learning my lines, when I was with Shenagh. She wasn’t going to leave Francis, any more than I planned to dump Jeffrey. It was harmless fun for both of us, just a break from the routine. Exciting – made a change, you know?’

‘Uh-huh?’

‘Unfortunately, one night Jeffrey came down, and discovered I wasn’t there, so there was hell to pay. This was only a couple of nights before the murder. Otherwise – we’d have met up on Hallowe’en.’

‘Did you think Jeffrey killed her?’

‘I hadn’t a clue what to think.’ In an unconscious gesture, Quin rubbed his cheek. ‘He has quite a temper, you know. But everyone seemed to think Craig Meek was responsible, and that was good enough for me.’

‘But Terri’s death changed things.’

‘Of course. Old wounds opened up again.’

‘Just as you suspected Jeffrey, he suspected you.’

Quin nodded. ‘Crazy, isn’t it?’

Hannah drove a hundred yards along Ravenbank Lane, coming to a halt opposite Beck Cottage. A variegated ivy smothered the front wall, and even at this time of year, the window-box flowers were a mass of blue and yellow. She imagined Terri falling in love with the place. At every window, the curtains were drawn.

One of the ground floor curtains twitched. The sound of her car engine must have attracted attention. She’d thought it might. Her gaze bored into the front door, straining to penetrate the secrets hidden behind it.

As the door opened, she wound down her window. Robin Park’s slim figure appeared. He was wearing a scruffy T-shirt and jeans, and hadn’t shaved. In the space of twenty-four hours, he’d aged years. She was pretty sure he hadn’t slept, and also that he hadn’t kept awake fretting over Oz Knight. His eyes widened, in something more than astonishment. Her spine tingled with excitement. Robin was frightened of her.

‘What brings you here?’

‘One or two more questions I’d like to ask, if you don’t mind.’

He blinked. ‘You’d better come in.’

She could wait, of course. Ought to wait, actually. Ashok and Zoe wouldn’t be long. Usually, she could be patient, and sometimes she even managed to be sensible. But not today, not when justice for Terri was within touching distance.

She opened her car door. There’d be time later, lots of it,
to worry about Fern’s outrage at her cavalier disregard for procedure. But this was about Terri, nothing else.

Robin stood aside, and waved her past him, into the hallway. With a bang, he slammed the door behind her.

‘Who is it, Robin?’ A woman’s voice, coming from the kitchen. So Miriam Park was here. Hannah had hoped she would be.

‘Terri’s friend, Mum.’ He took a breath. ‘Detective Chief Inspector Scarlett.’

Miriam plodded out into the hall, wiping her hands on her apron. A grey-haired woman, not wearing a trace of make-up. Hannah knew she was sixty-five, and she looked every day of that, but her build was sturdy, her jaw square and uncompromising. Hadn’t Robin said something about his failure to inherit sporting skills? His father had been a musician who owned a bar; his mother must be the sporty one. Deep lines were etched into her face; bags hung below her eyes. The woman was exhausted, and only sheer will power was keeping her on her feet.

Hannah offered her hand. Miriam’s grip was firm, her fingers thick and powerful.

‘I gather you were a sportswoman in your younger days.’

The older woman straightened with pride. ‘I played hockey for the county when I was only seventeen. People said I could go on to play for England, but my parents weren’t well, and I was working long hours to keep things going, so that all went by the board. After Mum and Dad died, I joined the Army. Before long they sent me to Belfast, at the height of the Troubles. One or two things I saw there, no young woman should have to see.’

‘I can imagine,’ Hannah said softly.

‘I was homesick, and had a bit of a … well, a breakdown, I suppose you’d call it. But I got over it, and got out of the Army. Then I came back to the Lakes for good.’

‘Your husband was a musician, Robin told me.’

‘I met and married him within six weeks of leaving the Army. Before he could change his mind.’ Miriam wasn’t smiling, and there wasn’t a hint of sentimentality in the faded grey eyes. ‘I’ve never believed in messing about, it gets you nowhere. Believe me, Bobby had his faults, but it was the best thing I ever did.’

Her gaze settled on her son, who shifted uncomfortably. ‘Would you like to come into the living room, Hannah?’

‘Kitchen’s warmer,’ his mother said. ‘Thanks to the stove.’

Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel and marched through the kitchen door. Robin’s shoulders drooped in despair. Hannah followed Miriam, and after a moment’s hesitation, he joined them.

The kitchen looked as though it had been extended by knocking through into an old scullery. The units were pine, some built-in, some free-standing, and Hannah recalled seeing something similar in a brochure when she and Marc had been planning the renovation of Undercrag. The price had been out of their reach, but Francis Palladino’s will had left Miriam a wealthy woman. She might not have invested in her own appearance, but she’d spent lavishly on her domestic kingdom. As promised, the wood-burning stove gave off plenty of heat. Hannah’s arrival had interrupted the preparation of a steak casserole. Two succulent fillets lay on a chopping board on one of the work surfaces. The smell of garlic, and of an onion chopped into half a dozen wedges, hung in the air.