The Grave Tattoo (36 page)

Tenille hunched into herself under Jane’s protective arm. ‘I went to that Letitia Brownrigg’s house last night. I got there round one in the morning. The door was unlocked so I just walked in. Only, there was a man in the living room.’

‘Oh, shit, Tenille. What if he called the cops?’

‘No, you’re getting the wrong end of the stick. He was a burglar. He had a torch in his mouth, he was, like, going through this desk thing in the room. Looking through papers. Like I would have been doing if I’d have got there first.’

Jake’s words came back to her in a rush. Someone a damn sight more unscrupulous than her was intent on finding the manuscript. And Tenille had walked into the middle of it. Her heart was in her mouth; could it be the same man who had tried to drown her? ‘Did he see you?’

‘Well, he saw, like, a person. I don’t think he actually got a good look at me, not enough to know I was me, if you get my meaning.’

‘Did you recognise him?’

Tenille pulled a face. ‘I didn’t see his face. I just got an impression of him, you know? Like, he was quite tall, not fat, not thin. I think he was wearing a beanie. Like, just a geezer. Could have been anybody.’

‘Could it have been Jake?’ She had to ask but didn’t want to hear the answer.

‘I don’t think so, but I couldn’t say for sure. Like I said, it could have been anybody.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I legged it. Didn’t stop pedalling till I got back here. Man, I was scared. I thought, you know, what if he saw enough to see I was black? Cuz there’s not many black kids round here, right? And, like, if he’s chasing the same thing you’re after, chances are he knows you. And that means he, like, knows who I am. Cuz maybe you talk about me, right?’ Her voice rose, the fear obvious.

‘I do talk about you, you’re right. But even if this person did figure out it was you, they wouldn’t know where to find you.’

Tenille snorted. ‘Sure they do. They know to look where you are.’

It was hard to argue with her logic. ‘All the more reason to stay inside, then,’ Jane said, trying not to show her own fear. ‘There’s nothing we can do about this. We just have to keep our heads down. I’ll try and get hold of Jimmy, see if he’s heard anything about a break-in at Letty’s.’ She gave Tenille a final squeeze then stood up. ‘Let this be a lesson to you. Stay inside–this time I mean it.’

‘Yeah, yeah. You got it.’ She yawned. ‘I’m too tired for any more adventures anyway. Man, I feel like I ran a marathon last night.’

Jane walked back across the yard, her brain in a whirl. Who was the mystery man? It had to be connected to her search. Anything else was too much of a coincidence. But however much they might want to beat her to the manuscript, she couldn’t imagine Matthew or Jake having the nerve or the appetite for burglary, never mind murder. Or was it someone else she knew nothing about, someone whose existence Jake had hinted at? Before she could get completely tangled in her thoughts, she was jerked back to the present by the ringing of her mobile. ‘Hello?’ she said.

‘Is that Jane Gresham?’ The voice was vaguely familiar.

‘Yes. Who is this?’

‘Detective Chief Inspector Ewan Rigston. We met at your parents’ farm on Saturday night.’

‘DCI Rigston. How can I help you? Has Tenille been found?’

‘No, it’s nothing to do with Tenille. I need to talk to you about a sudden death.’

36

Jane fought the feeling of dread in her chest and said a small silent prayer. ‘A sudden death?’ she said, trying to sound as if it were the least likely thing a police officer might ask her about. ‘Who’s dead?’

‘An elderly woman name of Letty Brownrigg. She lived up on Chestnut Hill on the outskirts of Keswick. The thing is, she had your name and phone number written on the pad by the phone in her living room.’ He let the words hang.

Jane felt as if she’d been punched in the chest. She fought to stay calm. ‘Yes. She wrote it down on Tuesday when I went to see her. But I don’t understand why you’re calling me. Is there something wrong? Something suspicious?’ Jane was desperately struggling for the words of an innocent person. She knew already she wasn’t going to reveal Tenille’s presence at the scene. Better to withhold evidence than to expose her to suspicion of involvement in a second death.

‘Now, why would you think that?’

Jane sighed in exasperation. ‘Because if she just died in her sleep, there wouldn’t be a DCI involved, never mind one phoning me up to ask me what seem like pointless questions.’

‘Fair enough. What it is, Mrs Brownrigg hadn’t been to the doctor for a little while, so we need to make some enquiries to make sure everything is as it should be. You say it was Tuesday that you saw her?’

‘Yes. She seemed fine. Quite chirpy, in fact.’

‘Aye, well. She did have heart problems, but she’d been fine lately. But anyhow, you’re not the last person to have seen her alive. Her daughter-in-law took her out to lunch yesterday, so we’ve got a more recent account than yours. It just seemed strange, that’s all.’

‘How do you mean?’ Jane’s skin turned to goose-flesh. Something in the very casualness of his tone unnerved her.

‘It’s just that this is the fourth death this week that connects to you,’ he said bluntly.

Jane said nothing. There was nothing she could think of to say that wouldn’t sound disingenuous.

‘Edith Clewlow, Tillie Swain, Eddie Fairfield and now Letty Brownrigg. I believe those four names feature on a list in your possession.’

‘That’s because they all appear on the same family tree. The only one of those four I had ever met before was Edith Clewlow. And she was dead before I had the chance to talk to her. If there’s something funny going on, don’t you think you should be looking a bit closer to home?’ Jane could hear the defensiveness in her voice, but she knew it was a strong argument.

‘That might be a valid point if this hadn’t all kicked off when you turned up asking about a lost manuscript.’

‘All the more reason to look at the family. If the manuscript exists, it’s worth a lot of money. Seven figures, we’re talking here, Inspector. If I was the killing sort, I might think that worth the candle.’

‘Maybe so.’

‘And it’s my understanding that the first three deaths were deemed to be from natural causes. So I’m not quite sure why you’re asking me these questions.’

Rigston cleared his throat. ‘They say three’s the charm, don’t they? Well, I’m looking at four now, and my instincts tell me there’s something here that goes beyond coincidence. And whatever it is, you’re at the heart of it, Dr Gresham. We’ll be talking again.’

‘And my answers will be the same.’

‘Heard anything from Tenille?’ he added, throwing her off balance again.

‘No,’ she replied firmly. ‘Goodbye, DCI Rigston.’ Jane’s heart was thudding in rhythm with her head. Edith, Tillie, Eddie and now Letty. All dead. The first four names on the list, all dead. Jake’s words echoed in her head:
And they will go to extraordinary lengths.
Who were these people? And surely they wouldn’t commit four murders in pursuit of what might yet turn out to be little more than a figment of Jane’s imagination? Hell, one murder would be too much for a poem. Four was beyond belief.

But there was the additional evidence of the attack on her. An attack she couldn’t tell Rigston about now, that was for sure. He was already treating her like a suspect. She could see no prospect of him believing in her unseen assailant.

She lurched into the kitchen and collapsed into a chair. She needed to talk to Dan. She dialled his number and he answered on the third ring. ‘I can’t talk now,’ he said straight away. ‘Can you meet me in Keswick in an hour?’

‘Yes,’ Jane said wearily. ‘Where?’

There was the sound of muffled conversation. She thought she recognised Jimmy’s voice. ‘Down by the lake. The car park on the road to Friar Cragg. OK?’

‘I’ll see you there in an hour.’ Jane stared at her phone as if expecting it to give her some irrefutable guidance. Her suspicions weighed heavy on her and she didn’t know who to talk to. Certainly not Rigston. She recognised in him a man who was far too smart to be fobbed off with the half-truths that were all she could offer him. But she couldn’t just keep her mouth shut either. If someone was killing off old people, she had to make sure the deaths didn’t all drift past without anyone acknowledging what was going on.

Then it came to her: the one person who would be more interested in the deaths than in whatever Jane might be hiding.

Half an hour later, Jane was sitting in the basement of Gibson’s funeral parlour, keeping company with a two-hundred-year-old corpse and a forensic anthropologist.
If they could see me now
, she found herself thinking absurdly. She’d just caught River, who was on her way out to grab a sandwich.

‘This is going to sound pretty weird,’ Jane said.

‘Oh good, I do like weird,’ River said, settling herself on a lab stool.

‘Bear with me. I know I told you some of this before, but I need to get it straight in my head. It’s to do with the manuscript I’m looking for. The last person I know to have had it in her hands was a servant called Dorcas Mason. I figured she might have decided to keep it safe rather than to destroy it. So, if it still exists, the chances are it’s been passed down to one of her descendants.’

‘Makes sense,’ River said.

‘I drew up a family tree and then I listed the surviving descendants in order of likelihood, based on primogeniture.’

River nodded. ‘Soundest principle, especially back then.’

‘The first person on my list died the night before I was going to see her. The second person on my list died the night after I visited her. The third person on my list died the night after I visited him. And I’ve just had a call from DI Rigston to tell me that the fourth person on my list died last night. Two nights after I visited her.’ She produced her rough family tree and illustrated her point.

River studied it with interest. ‘It’s bizarre, I’ll grant you that. But, like I said before, old people die.’

‘I know. And none of these deaths has been treated as suspicious. But they’re all related to each other. OK, a bit distantly, but still in the same extended family. The same extended family who might just be in possession of a very valuable and very portable piece of property. And since old people don’t go out very often, if you want to search for something like that, killing them’s the most certain way of making sure you won’t be disturbed.’

‘It does feel suspicious,’ River said slowly. ‘It’s not unheard of to have a cluster of deaths in a family, but this cluster is rather too close together.’ She tugged at her ponytail. ‘This woman Ewan Rigston called you about–why was he ringing you?’

‘He said he wanted to know if I was the last person to see her alive. Something about a sudden death, she hadn’t been to see the doctor recently. But he ended up acting like I was a murder suspect or something.’

River’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Really? Well, if she hadn’t seen the doctor recently, there’ll have to be a post mortem. I tell you what I’ll do, I’ll have a word with my colleague in Carlisle. Normally he’d be called in to do it. But I’m here on the spot, I’m a qualified pathologist, and it’ll get me some Brownie points with my boss if I step into the breach. And I can take a good look around your little old lady and see if there’s anything at all suspicious. How does that sound?’

Jane grinned. ‘You have no idea what a weight you’ve just taken off my back.’

‘Don’t hold your breath,’ River said. ‘Chances are I’m not going to find anything.’

‘I’d be very happy if you didn’t. This all started because I was determined to find a manuscript that might not even exist. The last thing I want is four deaths on my conscience as a result.’

The two men were already there, sitting on a bench, staring out across the silver glitter of the water. Dan looked round as she approached, his smile as cheerful as the sunshine. ‘Sorry about cutting you off earlier,’ he said, pushing off from the car and pulling her into a hug. He kissed her lightly on the mouth. ‘You know how it is. So, how are you?’

‘Still aching. And there’s something I need to talk to you about. I don’t know how to say this except to come straight out with it,’ she admitted. ‘Letty Brownrigg died last night.’

Jimmy’s face registered shock. ‘Granddad’s cousin Letty? Lives up Chestnut Hill? She was at Alice’s on Monday. She looked fit as a fiddle. What happened?’

‘They think it was natural causes, but there’ll have to be a post mortem.’ Talking about it seemed to increase the burden of Letty’s death, not reduce it. Jane had let herself be charmed by Letty, and now she was dead. Perhaps because of Jane.

Jimmy covered his face with his hands for a moment. He ran his fingertips over his eyebrows, dropped his hands to his lap and sighed. Dan put an arm round his shoulders. ‘Poor Letty. Jesus, it’s like all the oldies just decided to lie down and die together.’ He gazed bleakly at the water for a few minutes in silence. He turned to Jane, a question on his face. ‘But how come you know all this?’

‘The police phoned to ask why my name and number were on her phone pad. I was there on Tuesday, remember? They wanted to check that I wasn’t the last person to see her alive.’ Then the dam burst and Jane’s emotions spilled over. ‘It’s like everybody I need to talk to about the manuscript is dying. First your gran, then Tillie, then Eddie. And now Letty. It’s scaring me.’

Dan put his other arm round her, instinctively pulling her close. ‘I can see why.’

‘And now Ewan Rigston is treating me like I’m a suspect. Just because it’s my list they’re on.’

‘Well, it is too much to be coincidence,’ Jimmy said. ‘And I suppose you are the obvious connection. Have you got any better ideas?’ There was nothing hostile in his question; it was more a plea.

‘Somebody who believes the Wordsworth manuscript is out there and wants it very badly. But see, here’s the thing about old people. They don’t go out much. People come to them. The family takes care of them. They’re always home and they sleep notoriously lightly. Consequently, they’re hard to burgle. If you want to search their houses properly, you need to shut them up. And this guy shuts them up for good.’

Dan shivered. ‘Fuck, Jane, that’s cold.’

‘I know. But it’s the only explanation I can think of.’

‘Surely somebody would have noticed if they were all murdered,’ Jimmy said, fighting the logic of her argument because to accept it was too monstrous.

‘Not if there weren’t obvious signs of a struggle or injuries. They were all old. All pretty frail. Not hard to terrorise. Maybe that’s what killed them.’

Jimmy shook his head, as if trying to dislodge something. ‘So what are the police going to do about it? Apart from acting like you’re the suspect.’

‘I don’t know. But Ewan Rigston seems to be taking it seriously.’

‘So he should.’ Jimmy turned sideways to face her, anger in his eyes. ‘These are people I’ve known all my life, people I care about. My kin. Is there nothing we can do?