Leah Cassidy’s mother was weeping. Calladine couldn’t imagine why. Her daughter was safe, unhurt — she’d been lucky.
“It was my fault,” she told them. “I put that stupid photo on the website. It was only so my friends could see what a big girl she was — going off to school in her uniform.”
“He was a seasoned predator, Mrs Cassidy. You weren’t to know,” Ruth consoled her.
“This has been the worst time of my entire life. I thought I’d lost her,” she sobbed.
“She needs to rest.” The doctor patted the woman on her shoulder.
“I can’t leave her. I’ll never be able to leave her again.”
“Harriet Finch?” Ruth asked the doctor.
“Okay — we’ll go find her.”
There was no point staying with the children until they were fully awake and by that time Greco would have his people in place.
Harriet had been given a large dose of morphine and was barely conscious. Her friend Nesta sat by her bedside along with a young woman Calladine didn’t know.
“Jane Lessing. I’m Harriet’s niece.”
“Lessing?” Ruth asked.
“Gordon Lessing was my father,” she told them. “Aunt Harriet is all that’s left of my family now, and from the looks of things, she won’t be with us for much longer.”
“You do know what Harriet did?” asked Ruth.
“She killed him. She lured him down into that cellar of his and left him to die.”
“But you’re still here, supporting her?”
“Not from choice, but Nesta insisted. Harriet told some story about him killing my mother,” she shook her head. “I can’t see it, but on the other hand, Harriet is a good woman. She wouldn’t say that unless she knew, really knew.” Jane Lessing wiped the tears from her eyes. “I know my father had secrets, that he hid things from me and Mum. So what am I supposed to think? I’m here because she’s dying. I will get the truth once you lot have everything sorted. So I will stay open-minded.”
“We will make sure that you’re kept up to date with everything,” Ruth reassured her.
“The cancer has spread to her brain so what with that and the medication she’s nothing like her old self. You aren’t going to whip her away and lock her up, are you?”
“No, she’ll stay here until . . . until the end,” Calladine said sadly. “She will have a police guard, a PC on the door, but it’s just protocol.”
Harriet Finch would not escape. They’d be lucky if she lasted the night.
Chapter 20
“You get off home. It’s been quite a day and you look exhausted.”
“Thanks, Tom. I think I’ll do just that,” Ruth agreed. “And you get some proper sleep tonight. No gallivanting off with that new woman of yours now.”
She was right. He needed some time out but he doubted he’d get it. He checked his watch. Nearly seven; he should pick up Amy. Luckily Ruth had gone, so he didn’t have to explain himself.
Calladine had planned to go home and change — make an effort, but the exhibition finished at eight so he didn’t have time. After a quick goodnight to the team he left them to it. He decided to take his car and leave it outside Amy’s for the night. She had invited him to stay, after all. Things were looking up. He should feel better, but he didn’t.
She greeted him with, “You still look dreadful, grey around the gills. If you’re not careful, Tom, the job will make you ill.”
More advice he didn’t need. “I’ll be fine. I need a little feet up time, that’s all. But despite the way I look it’s been a productive day. We caught our killer, and found the two little girls.” He smiled.
“That’s great news!” She kissed his cheek. “The girls — they’re okay?”
“They’d been drugged and they were very cold when we found them, but yes, they’re fine, or they will be.”
“You’re a good man.” She kissed him again. “You do a dangerous job. Did your killer get rough?”
“Hardly.” He smiled. “Our killer is a very sick older woman. In fact I’m surprised she had the strength to do what she did.”
“Prison is still too good for her,” Amy retorted.
“She’ll never see the inside of a prison. I doubt she’ll last much longer — she has terminal cancer.”
“A deadly imperfection, that’s cancer,” she said thoughtfully. “But why kill those people? I don’t understand — and why the cards?”
“We know why she killed — she wanted her own brand of justice. It was payback time for incidents from the past, crimes left unpunished. But the cards . . .” He shrugged. “My theory is that they were left to ensure that we pinned the killings on a single person. The methods were all different, you see. There was no common element, as there is with most serial killers.”
Amy shuddered. “We should go. You need to think about something else — relax a bit. I’m sure all this involvement with cold-hearted killers does you no good at all.”
He took her hand as they left the shop and walked the few hundred yards to the community centre.
“You might see something you like, perhaps something by a local artist.” Amy put to him.
“We’ll see what’s on offer. But you want to go, so that’s good enough for me.” Art wasn’t really his thing, but it was Amy’s. Anyway there was free drink — as good a reason as any to give it a whirl.
The exhibition had been open since three that afternoon and a number of the paintings adorning the walls in the main hall had little red stickers on them. The local art group and independent artists had had a good day. Calladine browsed as Amy went to get them a glass of wine each. There were many pictures of local scenes. Some were of the surrounding countryside and hills, which were pretty but clichéd. It was the gritty depictions of the towns, particularly Leesdon and the Hobfield that got his attention. He was particularly drawn to one of them. It had a raw realism he could identify with.
“Good, isn’t it?” a woman’s voice asked from behind him.
Calladine simply nodded but didn’t look round. Something about the picture had captured his imagination. The artist had caught the atmosphere of that hellhole, the Hobfield.
“Art doesn’t interest me, as a rule, but this is good. He’s really caught the feel of the place.”
“The young man has real talent. He’s an employee of my son’s — well, was an employee.” She laughed lightly. “Now we’re sponsoring him through university so he can do a fine art degree. So he’s lost to the pharmaceutical business, I fear.”
Up until that moment Calladine hadn’t really taken much notice, but now the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He turned around slowly, his heart pounding. It was Eve Walker.
“I know who you are, Tom. I’ve always known. I’ve always lived locally so how could I not? I hoped that one day we’d meet and have the opportunity to talk, but while your mother was still alive I didn’t have the right. I’d made promises, you see.”
“So what gives you the right now?” he asked, his face hardening into a grim frown.
“Because Freda is gone and you know the truth. That was also part of the deal. You must be curious — I know I am.”
“Tom, you okay?” Amy asked, appearing with two glasses of red wine.
“Yep — fine. I like this one,” he said, turning to the picture, and completely ignoring Eve. “Reminds of my job. It’d look good on the wall in my office.”
“It’s already sold, Tom,” Amy pointed out. “Red sticker — see.”
“Actually I bought that one,” Eve told her. “I would be only too happy to give it to you, Inspector. Be my guest, take it, hang it on your wall.”
Calladine didn’t say a word. He took the wine and strode off in the direction of the small anteroom where people had put their coats.
“I’m sorry,” Amy apologised. “He’s not normally so rude. I think he’s had a heavy day. Perhaps I shouldn’t have brought him here.”
“The fault is entirely mine,”
Eve Walker insisted. “I should never have spoken to him in the first place. It’s too soon . . .”
“Why — what did you say? Does he know you?”
“Yes, well, no, but he knows who I am. It’s a difficult situation.”
The woman was somewhere in her seventies, not that her age detracted from her attractiveness. She was tall. Her hair was straight, medium-length and still dark. She had neat features and high cheekbones, and she was expensively dressed.
“Are you a relative?” Amy asked. “I ask, because I see a resemblance. I think he looks like you.”
Eve smiled and lowered her eyes.
“Yes, I am,” she admitted. “But he obviously doesn’t want to know me, not yet anyway.”
“You said the two of you had never spoken. If you’re related and local, how can that be?”
Eve Walker said nothing, looking away towards the other room.
“You and Tom, you are connected, despite what you say . . .” Amy half closed her eyes for a moment. “You are the reason he’s been so preoccupied recently. The other day he was in my shop and I gave him an impromptu reading. You’re the Queen of Pentacles! I should have known.” She put down her wine on the nearest table and went to find Tom.
“You can’t hide away in here all evening,” Amy said, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it. “She’s the one you’re scared of, isn’t she?”
“I’m not scared — I just can’t do this yet.”
“Who is she, Tom? She’s a relative, I guessed that much; you look like her.”
Tom Calladine looked Amy full in the face. Was it that obvious? All these years — who else had noticed? he wondered.
“Has she gone?” he asked.
“I don’t think so, but what of it? You’re behaving like a child. Whatever demons these are you need to face them head on. Do that and you’ll feel so much better.”
It was good advice, but could he act on it? Could he let Eve Walker, Buckley as she was now, into his life?
“She’s my birth mother.” He spoke slowly. “But until today we’d never met, never spoken. I’ve only known about her for a few months, since Freda — my mother — died. She left me that tin, the one you kept for me. It contains all the gory details about my parentage.”
Amy’s blue eyes widened. “That’s some secret, Tom. You should go and speak to her; she seems nice. She’ll be as uncomfortable about the situation as you are. You need to stop hiding from this and get out there.”
She sounded just like Ruth — making him feel like a naughty kid!
“Will you come with me?”
She smiled and reached for his hand. “Of course I will. Do this and you won’t regret it. You were meant to meet her. It was in the cards — remember? The Queen of Pentacles.”
“Not sure about all that . . . but I don’t know what I’ll say. Part of me hates her, but the other part, the sensible side of me knows it’s not her fault. She was just doing what my parents wanted — keeping out of my life.”
“Your parents are gone now. Meeting her can’t hurt anyone. She’s over there,” Amy said, opening the door and peering out. “Come on, let’s go and say hello properly.”
This was one of the most difficult things he’d ever had to do. If Amy had not been at his side he’d probably have done a runner.
Eve Walker, or Buckley, was gazing at the painting he’d admired so much.
“It’s very good of you to let me have it. You must let me pay,” he said politely.
She span round and gave him a dazzling smile, “I wouldn’t hear of it. Take it with you when you leave.” She stared into his face for several seconds. “Do you want to talk, Tom? There’s a lot I’d like to say to you.”
“Not really.” He cleared his throat. “I know we’ll have to at some stage. Don’t misunderstand me,” he added hurriedly. “I do have questions; it’s the answers I might not like. That’s what’s stopping me.”
She put a comforting hand on his arm. “All in good time, then. There’s no rush. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
Tom Calladine looked into the face of the woman who’d given birth to him, and smiled tentatively. Eve Walker was a looker now, so he could only imagine how beautiful she must have been when his dad knew her. He’d never really thought about it but perhaps his dad had had the same trouble with women that he did. Eve was his Lydia and Freda . . . ?
Freda Calladine had been his father’s rock, his steadying influence. She’d guided him, taken him in hand. She’d run their home, worked, and loved him and his dad unconditionally. He looked at Eve Walker. No matter what she turned out to be like — no matter how fond of her he might become over time — Freda Calladine would always be his mother. Ruth had been right about that — he should have listened to her.
His sergeant had always been his voice of reason.
THE END
AVAILABLE NOW BY HELEN H. DURRANT
DCI RACHEL KING
NEXT VICTIM
THE DCI GRECO BOOKS
Book 1: DARK MURDER
Book 2: DARK HOUSES
Book 3: DARK TRADE
THE CALLADINE & BAYLISS MYSTERY SERIES
Book 1: DEAD WRONG
Book 2: DEAD SILENT
Book 3: DEAD LIST
Book 4: DEAD LOST
Book 5: DEAD & BURIED
Book 6: DEAD NASTY
Book 7: DEAD JEALOUS
Book 8: DEAD BAD
MATT BRINDLE
Book 1: HIS THIRD VICTIM
Book 2: THE OTHER VICTIM
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CALLADINE AND BAYLISS BOOK 4: DEAD LOST
http://www.amazon.co.uk/DEAD-gripping-detective-thriller-suspense-ebook/dp/B018W6EANQ/
http://www.amazon.com/DEAD-gripping-detective-thriller-suspense-ebook/dp/B018W6EANQ/
An abandoned cotton mill holds horrific secrets
Police partners, D.I. Calladine and D.S. Ruth Bayliss face one of their toughest challenges yet. A group of homeless people have set up camp in the grounds of a disused cotton mill belonging to local businessman Damien Chase.
BOOK 5: DEAD & BURIED
https://www.amazon.co.uk/BURIED-gripping-crime-thriller-twists-ebook/dp/B01HXXTWKA/
https://www.amazon.com/BURIED-gripping-crime-thriller-twists-ebook/dp/B01HXXTWKA/
Annie Naden and her husband buy a remote country cottage at auction.It’s the home of their own that they always wanted, but as they begin renovations, Annie discovers a satchel in a dusty old hidden cupboard. Inside are the usual schoolbooks, now over 40 years old, and a girl’s diary. Among the record of day-to-day crushes and pop concerts, is a secret whose terrible consequences are still resonating to this day
THE DI GRECO MYSTERIES
DI GRECO BOOK 1: DARK MURDER
http://www.amazon.co.uk/MURDER-gripping-detective-thriller-suspense-ebook/dp/B0163DVHC2/
http://www.amazon.com/MURDER-gripping-detective-thriller-suspense-ebook/dp/B0163DVHC2/
A woman is found dead by a canal . . . why have her eyes have been viciously poked out?
Detective Stephen Greco has just started a new job at Oldston CID and now he faces a series of murders with seemingly no connection but the brutal disfigurement of the victims. Greco’s team is falling apart under the pressure and he doesn't know who he can trust. Then they discover a link to a local drug dealer, but maybe it’s not all that it seems.
Can Greco get control of his chaotic team and stop the murders?
DI GRECO BOOK 2: DARK HOUSES
http://www.amazon.co.uk/HOUSES-gripping-detective-thriller-suspense-ebook/dp/B01CGR9KEQ
http://www.amazon.com/HOUSES-gripping-detective-thriller-suspense-ebook/dp/B01CGR9KEQ
A young woman is found brutally murdered in an empty house
Detective Stephen Greco and his team
must piece together her life as quickly as possible. Within twenty-four hours there is another killing using the same method. The detectives realise that the victims are random but the locations are not. The killer is more concerned with finding the right house – somewhere he won’t be disturbed.
Glossary of English Slang for US readers
Beaker: glass or cup for holding liquids
Bob: money
Charity Shop: thrift store
Carrier bag: plastic bag from supermarket
Care Home: an institution where old people are cared for
Chat-up: flirt, trying to pick up someone with witty banter or compliments
Chinwag: conversation
Comprehensive School (Comp.): High school
Childminder: someone who looks after children for money
Council: local government
Deck: one of the landings on a floor of a tower block
DI: detective inspector
DS: detective sergeant
ED: accident and emergency department of hospital
Early dart: to leave work early
Estate: public/social housing estate (similar to housing projects)
Estate agent: realtor (US)
Fag: cigarette
Garden Centre: a business where plants and gardening equipment are sold
GP: general practitioner, a doctor based in the community
Handy Man case: the case Calladine and Bayliss dealt with described in Dead Wrong.
Hard nut: tough guy
Home: care home for elderly or sick people
Inne: isn’t he
Into care: a child taken away from their family by the social services
Lad: young man
Lorry: a truck
Mobile phone: cell phone
Net curtains: a type of semi-transparent curtain
Bayliss & Calladine Box Set Page 53
