The Grave Tattoo (41 page)

‘She’ll be fine,’ a familiar voice interjected.

Jane swung round. ‘Anthony? What are you doing here?’

‘Waiting to give you a lift home. I’ve been helping the police with their enquiries,’ he said.

‘I’ll be off, then,’ Terras said. ‘Stay in touch.’

Jane nodded, distracted by Anthony’s presence. ‘Surely they don’t think you had anything to do with the murders?’

‘Murders?’ Anthony’s face registered surprise. ‘Murder wasn’t mentioned at all. In fact, now I come to think of it, I don’t recall a single crime coming up in the conversation.’ He moved towards his car and Jane followed. ‘But what concerns me is what they were doing arresting you.’

‘In a minute,’ Jane said, impatient to hear his story. ‘You first. Tell me what went on with you and the cops.’

As they drove out of Keswick, Anthony filled her in on his interview with Rigston. ‘I can’t tell you how extraordinary it felt to hold that piece of paper in my hand,’ he said. ‘I’m damn sure it’s the real thing.’

‘I think so too.’

‘So it was you who found it?’ He looked away from the road, his excitement palpable. ‘But why is it in the hands of the police? And what’s this about murder?’

Jane groaned. ‘Four murders and a burglary. And from what you’ve been telling me, it sounds as if Rigston has been checking you out as a potential suspect.’

Anthony’s mouth fell open and the car swerved alarmingly.
‘Four
murders?’

‘Don’t forget the burglary. Which is where the manuscript page comes in.’

‘I don’t understand any of this. Can you begin at the beginning?’

Jane sighed. ‘It all started with a teenager called Tenille,’ she said. By the time she got to the end of her tale, Anthony had run out of exclamations and had settled for astonished silence. ‘And that’s where we’re up to,’ Jane concluded.

‘But you simply have to find the rest of the manuscript,’ Anthony said. ‘Do you know where it is?’

‘All I know is that it came from Jenny Wright’s house. That’s where the cops picked up Tenille.’

‘You have to talk to this woman, have her show you the rest of it,’ Anthony said as they pulled into the farmyard.

‘I’m too tired to think about it now,’ Jane said, getting out of the car. Anthony followed her into the house, still trying to talk her into it. She had barely stepped into the kitchen when her mother was upon her, enveloping her in a warm embrace, tears running down her face. Her father, Matthew and Dan joined in a kind of group hug and it took Jane some moments to free herself.

Her ears were assaulted by a chorus of demands to know what had happened. Jane put her hands over her ears and shouted, ‘One at a time! I know you’re pleased to see me, but give me some space here.’

It took a few minutes for everyone to calm down, but before too long they were all seated round the table drinking tea and Jane was forced to tell her story all over again, the narrative disjointed by incredulity, disapproval and outrage from her several listeners.

‘So did Tenille kill these old dears?’ Matthew asked.

‘Of course she didn’t,’ Jane said. ‘What do you take me for? You think I’d shelter someone who was capable of that?’

For once, Matthew was placatory. ‘I’m not questioning your judgement. Just trying to make sense of what’s going on.’

‘Apart from the fact that she’s not a killer, Tenille didn’t know about any of this until after Edith Clewlow’s death,’ Jane said. ‘So that lets her off the hook.’

‘Frankly, I see no point in us trying to play an Agatha Christie parlour game,’ Anthony said, cutting across the discussion. ‘It’s the job of the police to sort this mess out. Your real responsibility, Jane, is to the manuscript. You have to persuade this Jenny Wright to let you see it.’

Jane stifled a yawn. ‘Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to happen. Don’t forget, I’m the prime suspect in the murder of four of her relatives. I don’t think she’s going to be handing the manuscript over to me any time soon.’

‘Maybe not,’ Dan said. ‘But Jimmy’s her favourite nephew right now. I could talk to him, see if he can get her to let me take a look.’

Jane tried to hide her disappointment. ‘If you think that will work,’ she said despondently, feeling her dream slipping out of her grasp.

‘I know it’s your thing,’ he said. ‘And I’m not trying to steal your glory. I could get her to let me make a copy of it, maybe? Then you could make a start on it.’

‘It’s not a bad idea, Jane,’ Anthony said.

‘And it means you can stop here, where I can keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t get into any more trouble,’ her mother added ominously.

Jane sighed. ‘OK. You go and see Jimmy.’ She stood up. ‘I’m going to bed. I am knackered.’ Before she could leave the room, the phone rang. She paused while her father answered it.

‘Just a minute,’ he said. ‘It’s for you,’ he added, passing the phone to Jane.

‘Hello,’ she said impatiently.

‘Dr Gresham? This is DI Blair from the Met.’

Jane groaned inwardly. Not more hassle about Tenille. ‘How can I help you?’ she said wearily.

‘I wanted to let you know that we’re no longer looking for Tenille Cole in connection with the murder of Geno Marley,’ Donna said baldly.

Jane could hardly believe her ears. ‘What?’ she said. ‘Why? What’s happened? Have you made an arrest?’

‘A young man died in the early hours of this morning during police pursuit of a stolen car,’ Donna said, her clipped voice the perfect vehicle for the officialese. ‘Among his effects was Geno Marley’s wallet. The passenger in the car admitted that the driver had in fact boasted to him about blowing Geno away. So the case would appear to be closed.’

‘That’s great news. I mean, not that somebody is dead, obviously, but that Tenille is in the clear.’

‘She’s not quite in the clear. There is the matter of the arson.’

Jane’s spirits plummeted as quickly as they’d risen. ‘But…’

Before she could go on, Donna cut across her. ‘Dr Gresham, can I speak frankly to you?’

‘Of course,’ Jane said.

‘I think Tenille’s one of those rare kids who can be saved. Everything I’ve heard about her suggests that she could make something of herself. Prosecuting her would destroy any chance she has of that. I don’t believe there’s much prospect of her reoffending. Unless of course we push her through the system and offer her no alternative. But she’s going to need somebody in her corner if she’s to make good on that promise. To put it bluntly, are you going to be there for her?’

Jane didn’t even have to pause for thought. ‘She’s like a kid sister to me. I’m not going to walk away. I promise you, DI Blair, if you give her this chance, I won’t let her waste it. And I don’t think her father will either.’

‘Yeah, well, the less said about him the better. Let her know it’s safe to come home, will you?’

‘Um…it’s not quite that simple,’ Jane said. ‘You’re going to have to talk to DCI Rigston.’

‘In Keswick? Is there a problem?’

‘I’d rather you heard it from him. I’d appreciate you giving him the same message about Tenille that you just gave me.’

‘That doesn’t sound very promising,’ Donna said, her doubts about her own judgement obvious even over the phone.

‘She’s a good kid, DI Blair. She’s redeemable.’

‘I’ll talk to DCI Rigston. I hope our paths don’t have to cross again, Dr Gresham.’

‘I hope so too, in the nicest possible way. Thank you, Inspector. I’ll do my best to make sure your leniency isn’t wasted.’

‘Good luck.’ Donna hung up.

Jane looked around the room, her face cheerful for the first time in days. ‘That was the police in London. Tenille’s off the hook for the murder and arson down there.’

‘That’s great news,’ Dan said.

‘Maybe now Rigston will leave you and Tenille alone and start looking for the real killer,’ Matthew added.

‘Let’s hope so. Now, I really am going to bed,’ Jane said. ‘Perhaps when I wake up, this will all make sense.’

Dan grinned. ‘I wouldn’t bet on it.’

41

Jimmy slid into the passenger seat of Dan’s car, parked up at the end of Alice’s street. ‘Mysterious phone call,’ he said, leaning across to kiss him. ‘I feel like a spy’

‘I didn’t want to come to the house without talking to you first, what with the funeral preparations and everything. Have the police been in touch with Jenny?’ Dan asked.

Jimmy’s monkey face screwed into a frown. ‘No, should they have?’

‘The cottage was burgled last night.’

‘No way’ Jimmy breathed. ‘Man, I’m so glad we got her out of there. That could have been the killer, Dan. She could have been lying dead this morning.’ He shook his head.

‘We don’t think the burglar was the killer, Jimmy’ Briefly, Dan outlined the events of the previous night. ‘I don’t think it was Tenille. That means the killer is still out there. Frankly, the best thing Jenny can do right now is to hand over the manuscript to us. Once it’s out there in the public domain, there’s no point in any more deaths. If Jenny wants to make sure she stays alive, she needs to take herself out of the target circle.’

Jimmy nodded, seeing the force of his argument. ‘Let’s go and talk to her now,’ he said. ‘Alice is round at Gibson’s so the coast’s clear.’

They found Jenny sitting in the conservatory drinking tea, watching the birds feasting on Alice’s bird table. She peered suspiciously at Dan. ‘You’re that lad was with Jane Gresham the other day,’ she said, no welcome in her voice.

‘Dan’s a friend of mine,’ Jimmy said.

Jenny raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh, aye? You want to let your head rule your heart a bit more, young Jimmy. Handsome is as handsome does and he’s out for what he can get, this one.’

‘Auntie Jenny,’ Jimmy protested. ‘That’s not fair. If it wasn’t for Dan and Jane, you could be dead in your bed. There was a burglary at your cottage last night.’

Jenny’s hand clutched her chest. ‘Oh my God. What did they take? Did they vandalise the place?’

‘The burglar only took one thing,’ Dan said. ‘A piece of paper. Just one. A sample, you might say.’

‘What are you on about?’ Jenny looked every inch the timorous, confused old lady, but Dan wasn’t buying it.

‘You’ve got the manuscript, Jenny. We know that now.’ He crouched down so he was level with her. ‘I really don’t want to frighten you, but four people have already died so someone could get their hands on this manuscript. As long as you keep it hidden, you’re next on that person’s hit list. But if you get it out in the open, entrust it to Jane, or Anthony Catto at the Wordsworth Trust, you protect yourself. I don’t want you to die for a bundle of papers. Nobody does. Give it up, Jenny.’

The old woman’s lower lip thrust out in an expression of defiance. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said.

‘The sheet of paper came from your house. The police were watching the house, they caught the burglar as she was leaving. She had it on her.’

Jenny’s head came up in defiance. ‘And what’s to say she didn’t have it on her when she went in? What’s to say it’s not all some clever bluff? You and your university friends, you’re all so bloody clever-clever, that’s just the sort of thing you’d come up with. I’m telling you, I don’t know what you’re talking about and I’ll thank you to leave me to drink my cup of tea in peace.’ She turned away, pointedly studying the birds again.

‘Auntie Jenny,’ Jimmy said, his voice a plea. ‘It’s for your own good.’

‘It would be if I had the papers he’s talking about. But I don’t, and that’s that. Now be a good lad and get him out of here before Alice comes back and has a come-apart at the sight of him.’

Jimmy followed Dan out to the street. ‘What can I say? She’s a stubborn old biddy.’

Dan shrugged. ‘We tried. Work on her, Jimmy. For her own sake.’

Matthew glowered at Ewan Rigston. ‘I don’t believe my sister tried to make out I’m some sort of fiend who goes around preying on little old ladies. We might not always see eye to eye, but she knows me too well to entertain a thought like that.’

‘When people are in a tight corner, they have a way of speaking the truth,’ Rigston said.

‘So why are you quoting lies at me and pretending Jane said she suspected me?’

‘I never said she suspected you. I said that she told us you were one of a handful of people who knew she was interested in the Clewlow family. And that you knew what she was looking for. It’s my job to talk to people in possession of that information, Mr Gresham. Four people are dead.’

‘Well, it’s got nothing to do with me. I was just trying to help Jane.’ He pouted like a child. ‘Fat lot of good it did me.’

‘The person we caught burgling a cottage last night was just trying to help Jane too, we reckon. There seem to be a lot of people willing to give your sister a helping hand.’

‘Stop treating me like an idiot, Rigston. You’re not going to trick me into some stupid admission because there is no admission to make. Like I said, I was only trying to help. And this is the thanks I get. Up half the night trying to get my sister out of jail. Police turning up at the school, making me look like some sort of criminal.’ Matthew shifted irritably in his chair. ‘Are you done now? Only, this is supposed to be my lunch hour and so far I haven’t had any.’

‘I’m done for now, yes. But I’ll be checking what you’ve told me and I may have some further questions for you.’

‘Fine, ruin my reputation. Look, I don’t murder people. I’m just a country schoolmaster, dull and boring. People like me don’t go on killing sprees.’

‘I’m sure people said the same thing about Harold Shipman,’ Rigston said drily as he walked out. He didn’t like Matthew Gresham. He thought the man was a vain, pompous prick. But that didn’t make him a murderer. Nor did the fact that he’d spoken to a couple of the victims. He wasn’t a likely killer. But, in Rigston’s book, he wasn’t off the hook yet either.

It was mid-afternoon by the time Jane surfaced. Dan and Judy were in the kitchen, drinking yet another pot of tea. ‘Any joy?’ Jane asked Dan as she poured herself a cup.

‘Stubborn old witch wouldn’t give an inch,’ Dan said. ‘She won’t even admit she knows what we’re talking about. Jimmy’s going to work on her, but don’t hold your breath.’

‘I wish I knew how Tenille is doing,’ Jane said. ‘I asked if I could see her, but they wouldn’t let me near her.’ She looked thoughtful for a moment, then gave her mother a speculative look. ‘You could go,’ she said. ‘Take her some food, something to read. So she doesn’t think she’s been abandoned.’

‘Me? You want me to go and visit her? After the trouble she’s caused you?’

Jane sighed. ‘She’s a good kid. Please, Mum. You’d be taking a load off my mind.’

Judy looked uncertain. ‘What would I talk to her about?’

Jane rolled her eyes. ‘It doesn’t matter. Just being there will be enough. Please? For me?’

Judy pursed her lips. ‘I don’t know why I let you talk me into these things, I really don’t. All right, I’ll go and phone the police and see if they’ll let me talk to her.’

As she left the room, Jane’s mobile rang. ‘Hello? Jane Gresham speaking.’

The querulous voice on the other end was vaguely familiar but she couldn’t place it at first. ‘I want to talk to you about something important but I need you to promise me you won’t tell another living soul,’ the voice said.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know…’

‘It’s Jenny Wright,’ the woman said impatiently. ‘Promise me you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.’

Jane’s eyes flicked towards Dan. He had picked up the paper and was apparently reading. She turned her head slightly. ‘I can do that,’ she said.

‘I’d go myself, but it’s Edith’s funeral and I’ve no way of slipping away. And I think it’s urgent. Your pal, Jimmy’s young man–he said my life was at risk while the papers stay hidden. He said I’m on a hit list. I don’t want to die, lass. It might not seem like much of a life to you, but it suits me fine.’

‘I can understand. I feel the same,’ Jane said gently. She was desperate for Jenny to get to the point but knew there was no point in hustling her.

‘I know he’s your pal and all, but I’ve never trusted nancy boys,’ she said, apparently off on a tangent. ‘I don’t understand how our Jimmy turned out that way, but he’s family and he’s a lad that knows family comes first. But I don’t trust any of the rest of them. So even if he is right, I’m not letting him near it.’

‘Fair enough,’ Jane said. ‘It’s up to you.’ Her heart was thudding in her chest now, anticipation making her feel light-headed.

‘I want you to fetch it. There’s an old privy at the bottom of the garden with some old paint tins on a shelf. The spare key to the back door is under a tin of white gloss paint. Go upstairs to the spare bedroom and you’ll see an old brass-bound chest. It’s full of junk, but underneath all that, there’s a false bottom. Lift it, and you’ll find the papers. You go and get them and take them to the Wordsworth Trust. They can make a proper song and dance about it. That way the killer will know to leave me alone. Have you got all that?’

‘Clear as crystal. Thank you. Thank you so much.’ She tried not to sound too enthusiastic, not wanting to alert Dan to the momentous nature of the call. She hated keeping him out of the loop, but a promise was a promise.

‘And not a word to anybody. That way, you stay safe too.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll let you know how things go.’ She heard Jenny hang up the phone but she kept her mobile to her ear, pretending the conversation was ongoing. ‘OK, Neil. My mum’s going to try to see her this afternoon, but I’ll make sure she doesn’t talk about the case. Thanks for calling.’ She put the phone down.

Dan looked up enquiringly.

‘My lawyer,’ she said. ‘He’s been talking to Tenille’s solicitor. He thinks I should give a statement saying Tenille didn’t know about the manuscript until after Edith was dead. It can’t hurt me and it can do her a lot of good.’

‘I would have thought so,’ he said, stretching and yawning. ‘I think I might go back up to the cottage and take a nap. Will you be all right here on your own?’

‘Yeah. I think I might go back to bed. I feel wasted.’

As Dan got up, Judy returned. ‘That’s all sorted, then. I can see her in an hour. Jane, you need to help me with a care package.’

‘I’ll leave you ladies to it,’ Dan said, heading for the door.

It took twenty minutes for Jane to get her mother out of the door. She was in a fever of impatience. Then it dawned on her. With her mother gone, she had no car. And her bike was presumably still at Copperhead Cottage from Tenille’s excursion. ‘Fuck,’ Jane muttered. She found her wallet and checked her cash level. She had enough for a taxi to get her to Coniston, but not enough to get back. ‘Sod it,’ she said, reaching for the phone book. She could call Anthony on her mobile once she had the manuscript. She didn’t think he’d mind in the least coming to collect her and her precious cargo.

Jake was sitting in the bar of his hotel, nursing a pint and wondering why he was still kicking his heels in this godforsaken hole. He’d grown tired of knocking on doors where there was no reply and he’d finally given up altogether when his arrival for the third time at Eddie Fairfield’s had coincided with a police Scene of Crimes team. He hadn’t even stopped the car, just cruised on past and headed straight back for the hotel. He’d tried telling Caroline he was wasting his time, but she had insisted on him staying put. ‘You never know what will turn up,’ she’d said mysteriously, then refused to be drawn further.

If this was working in the private sector, he couldn’t help feeling he’d made a mistake. He’d expected much more action, much more hands-on contact with the old manuscripts that had always fascinated him. Not all this hanging around in hotel rooms waiting for directions like some errand boy.