The Crow Trap (43 page)

There was no happy ending to the story of the missing toddler. Indeed there was no ending at all because the boy was never found and no body was ever recovered. There was a distressing and bizarre postscript.

A gamekeeper, apparently with an axe to grind, wrote to the local paper suggesting that Lee might have been carried off by a goshawk and fed to its young. Goshawks were vicious and dangerous and should be culled, he said. Woolly-minded conservationists should let keepers get on with their jobs.

The letter was so crazy that Vera suspected Connie might be behind it.

It was the sort of joke she would have loved and she could have carried it out with Hector’s help. Beverly latched onto the explanation, however, and fuelled speculation by remembering suddenly that a large powerful bird had been hovering overhead while Lee was playing. The national press took up the story and had a field day. The case became the English equivalent of the Australian dingo story. Beverly made enough money from photos and interviews to buy Gary a new car and take him on holiday to Cyprus.

Vera thought the little boy must have wandered off towards the burn while the adults were having it away in the car, and had been swept away by the flood water. It was the only sensible explanation. Now, drinking champagne on a sultry afternoon in midsummer, she thought it was quite a coincidence. Two deaths -because the boy must surely have died at almost the same spot so many years apart.

She thought Rachael might be entertained by the story of the goshawk and the gamekeeper but never got a chance to tell it, because Joe Ashworth came out of the house with a serious look on his face and told them about the second murder. Beating her story, she had to admit, into a cocked hat.

Chapter Fifty-Three.

In the car Vera was on the radio shrieking like a madwoman, swearing, trying to get some fix on what was going on. No one was available to talk to her. No one who knew. It wasn’t supposed to have happened like this. She’d hoped the killer would come back. She couldn’t see any other way forward. But to Baikie’s. To her own territory. Not in Langholme.

She veered off the road from Langholme into the Avenue and saw Anne Preece, sitting on the grass bank by the side of the lane, a grey blanket around her shoulders, a mug clasped in both her hands. It was raining and Anne’s hair was lank and straight. She stared ahead of her. Vera thought she looked like a vagrant after the arrival of the soup run.

A young policeman blocked her path, recognized her and let her pass.

She pulled in beside Anne, wound down the window and shouted, “What the shit have you been up to?” Relief gave an edge of anger to her voice.

The policeman, confused, said, “This is Mrs. Preece. She found the body.”

Vera got out of the car. “We have met.”

She ignored the policeman and sat on the grass. All her questions were directed to Anne. “Well? I thought it was a kiddie’s birthday party.

I didn’t think you could get up to much here.”

Anne turned her head to look up towards the house. The police had blocked the road. Cars were backed up as far as the drive and there was chaos and confusion as they tried to turn. Some people had got out of their vehicles and were gawping.

“Do you want to get into the car?” Vera asked gently.

“No.” Anne shook her head violently. “If you don’t mind, I need the air.”

“Where’s your husband?”

“God knows. Probably still drinking champagne and playing to the gallery.”

“What happened?”

“I was bored. It wasn’t my thing. Precocious brats and the kids not much nicer.” Vera smiled appreciatively, nodded encouragement.

“I’d been talking to Robert. About his family. He asked about Grace and then said something about her being like her father. Their both needing help. As if he’d seen Edmund recently. So I wondered … “

“If he’d felt guilty enough to give him the help he needed?”

“Something like that. And I knew this house had been empty since Neville Furness left it. I mean, I didn’t set out to interfere but it was on my way home and I was curious.” “You should have told me,” Vera said. “But I’d probably have done the same thing myself.”

The kitchen door was unlocked.”

“Where was he?”

“In the living room, lying on the settee. At first I thought he was just drunk. There was an empty whisky bottle on the coffee table. But drunk people make lots of noises when they’re sleeping, don’t they? He wasn’t snoring. And he looked peaceful. I mean there wasn’t any blood. Do you think he killed himself?” Before Vera could answer she added, “I suppose it was Edmund? He looked the right sort of age but I’ve never met him.”

Vera looked up at the policeman who nodded.

“The brother gave a positive ID.” “Was there anyone else in the house?” Vera asked.

“No! At least I didn’t see or hear anyone. I didn’t go upstairs.”

“What did you do?”

“Got out as soon as I could. I know it was stupid but I couldn’t face looking at him.”

“Was there a phone in the house?” “I didn’t stop to check. I thought about it when I was outside but I couldn’t go back in. I couldn’t decide what would be best. I suppose it was the shock. My brain seemed to work so slowly. I banged on the door of the next house but no one was in. I didn’t want to go back to the Hall to phone you. All those people drinking and laughing. So I ran to the phone box in the village and dialled 999. Then I came back here to wait.”

“What would you like to do now? We can find your husband. Take you home.”

“Oh God. I couldn’t face Jeremy. Can’t I go back to Baikie’s? Spend the last night there as I planned?”

“I don’t see why not. If you can put up with Edie fussing over you.

She and Rachael are still there with Joe Ashworth. I’ll get someone to give you a lift.” Vera started away then turned back. “Did you see anyone when you went into Langholme to use the phone?”

“Why? Don’t you believe me?”

“It’s not that. Did you see any strangers? Anything unusual?”

Anne shook her head.

“And when you were waiting here for us to arrive?”

“A few cars passed. People leaving the party early. Mostly with kids.

But not many. The fireworks had just started.”

Vera was just about to get back into her car. Then she looked at the blocked Avenue and thought she’d be better off walking.

The young policeman still stood outside the ordinary, red-brick house.

“Do you want to go in?” “No,” she said. “I’ll keep my big feet out until the experts have finished. I’ll get more out of the living.” She Robert and Lily Fulwell in the middle of a row. The party was almost over. A few hardened drinkers stood under a makeshift canopy formed by the roof of the partially deflated bouncy castle. They had a bottle of wine which they passed between them. The rain was already collecting in pools on the compacted ground and the staff putting down the trestles and stacking the chairs weren’t happy in their work.

Nobody stopped Vera as she approached the house and she’d been there often enough to find her way around. Robert and Lily were in the kitchen. She heard them before she saw them.

“How could you have been so fucking stupid!” Lily screamed. “He was trouble. He’d always been trouble. Your mother knew that.”

“I don’t think this is the time to talk like that. I think it’s inappropriate, actually.” Robert was dogged but slightly defensive.

“My brother’s dead, for Christ’s sake. Most people might think that deserved a little sympathy.”

“Oh, come off it.” Vera had come to the open door and could see Lily leaning back in her chair, a gesture of incredulity, as she spoke.

“He was my brother. I couldn’t turn him away.”

Lily thrust her face towards her husband’s. “Can’t you see what you’ve done? So far we’ve managed to distance ourselves from that affair on the hill. But now your stupid brother’s killed himself in one of our cottages. The press will be all over the place. Can’t you imagine the effect that’ll have on us? On the boys?”

Vera stepped forward. “We don’t know that he killed himself. Not yet.

Not unless you know something I don’t.”

Lily swung round. For one glorious moment Vera thought she’d swear at her too, but she managed to restrain herself. “Inspector Stanhope.

What are you saying?”

“Nothing. Just that I don’t know what happened. Can’t jump to any conclusions. It might have been natural causes.”

“Is that likely?” Lily was clutching at straws. Vera let her. She shrugged. “He was a heavy drinker,” she said.

“Yes.” Lily was almost composed. “So I understand.” She stood up, scraping the chair on the quarry-tile floor. “We were just about to have some tea, Inspector. Would you like some?”

Wine would go down a treat, Vera thought, if you’ve got any left. But she feigned gratitude. “Aye,” she said, emphasizing the accent, ‘ would be champion.”

Lily moved the kettle onto the hot plate of the Aga. It hissed.

“Don’t tell me you do it yourself.” Vera went on in mock astonishment.

“I thought a place like this, there’d be servants.”

Lily looked at her, not quite sure if she was being serious, and decided a non-committal reply would be safest.

“Oh, we’re all part of a team here. Everyone’s outside, clearing up.

We just muck in.”

“Very nice.” Vera stretched her legs in front of her. There were dried splashes of mud from when she’d crossed the lawn. “This must be very upsetting for you, Mr. Fulwell. First your niece, then your brother and all a spit from where you live.”

“It is.” He shot a glance of recrimination at Lily, but she took no notice.

“When did you last see your brother alive?”

“This morning.”

“You knew he was holed up there then?” “Yes. I should have told you. Perhaps if I had … But I couldn’t turn him away. Not after what had happened to his daughter.”

“What time did you see him?”

“I went down there twice. At ten o’clock I took him some food. Then I went back at about eleven thirty.”

“Why? Wasn’t that risky? If you’d wanted to keep his whereabouts secret I’d have thought you’d keep visits to a minimum.”

“It wasn’t so risky during the day. The family who live next door are generally out then. But yes, I tried not to go too often. It wasn’t just that I was worried I’d he seen. I didn’t know what to say to him.”

“So why twice today?”

“He phoned me. Here. It was crazy. He said he was desperate for a drink. He even talked about going into the village to the pub. I thought he was making a terrible mistake hiding out from you and all along I was trying to persuade him to give himself up. But the last thing I wanted was for him to come up to the house and make a scene today.”

I bet you didn’t, Vera thought. The child bride would have gone ape.

“So you took him a bottle of whisky.”

“Yes. I don’t know why he was suddenly so agitated. He’d been calm until then. I’d almost talked him round.” “You said he phoned. You’d left the phone connected?”

“Yes.”

“Could he have spoken to someone? Would that explain his changed mood?”

“He wouldn’t have phoned out. At the end he was paranoid. He wouldn’t have told anyone else where he was.”

Lily set the teapot violently on the table.

“Look,” she said. “He was mad. Mentally disturbed. Up and down like a yo-yo. That’s why Robert’s mother couldn’t handle him. That’s why he ended up being shut in St. Nick’s.”

Vera ignored her. “Didn’t he give you any indication why he was suddenly so upset?” she asked Robert.

“He wasn’t terribly coherent and to be honest I didn’t really want to know. I mean, I thought I’d done my bit by giving him a place to stay.

There was lots of talk about betrayal. As I said, it verged on the paranoid.”

“Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.”

Vera bared her teeth. No one else smiled. She watched Lily pour tea into blue cups. “You can leave mine in the pot a bit longer, pet. I like to taste what I’m drinking. Has he been staying here since he left the restaurant?”

“Good God, no.” Robert was horrified. “I wouldn’t have been able to stand the strain.”

“When then?”

“He went to Nancy Deakin’s first. You asked me about her once before.

I don’t know exactly what made him bolt there. Something put the wind up him. When his daughter’s body was first found he seemed content to stay at the restaurant.”

“You were in touch then?”

“Of course.” Robert was gruffly embarrassed. “Ib offer condolences.

That sort of thing. I thought he was bearing up very well.”

“Had you been in regular contact?”

“No, but at a time like that, one has to make an effort.”

“Why did he leave Nancy’s?”

“The two women who’d been working with Grace went round there. They were asking questions. He thought you’d sent them, so he got in touch with me.” “Tut, tut,” Vera said. “Paranoia indeed. How did you get him here?”