Deans rutted his brow and dipped his head.
‘Ash, or Donna as she was originally named, was orphaned away from the area and returned as an adult with a new male identity and a name changed by deed-poll.’
Deans took several long sips from his mug.
‘Babbage should have told us from the start,’ Sarah said. ‘Might not have ended up in a bloke’s prison… but you’d never tell, looking at him, I mean her…’
Deans wiped froth from his top lip. ‘Well, if that’s the life that he chose, who are we to say otherwise?’
Sarah gave an exaggerated jerk of her shoulders and groaned again.
‘Are the Crown Prosecution making all the right noises, now that Babbage is out?’ Deans asked.
‘Seem to be and obviously a bit shocked to have him released the way that he was.’ Sarah rubbed the side of her nose and looked away furtively.
‘What?’ Deans asked, leaning closer towards her. ‘What else, Sarah?’
She blinked and glanced down.
‘Sarah?’
She covered her mouth with the back of a hand and peered at Deans. He gestured for her to continue. Her eyes had pity etched into them.
‘Sarah?’
‘We intercepted one of Babbage’s phone calls from prison,’ she said and shook her head. ‘Not a full transcript, but one-way CCTV footage of Babbage speaking.’ She paused and drew a deep breath. ‘He was…’ she hesitated, ‘he appeared to be asking whoever else was on the end of the line “if it was done. If everything was arranged and sorted.”’
Deans placed his mug down in front of him and leaned on the table with his elbows. ‘Who was on the other end of the phone?’
‘We don’t know. We weren’t permitted authority to check.’
Deans sat back in his chair and grabbed his mouth.
‘We did try,’ Sarah said. ‘But the prison governor said it didn’t prove a thing… could have been talking about lottery tickets.’
‘Did Jackson challenge that?’ Deans asked.
Sarah nodded, ‘I think so.’
Deans watched Sarah for a moment and then leaned in close again. ‘Why didn’t Jackson authorise any questions about Maria while we still had Babbage in custody?’
Sarah lowered her head. ‘I don’t know.’
Deans studied her face; watched her drink from the cup. DC Gold had been set up for failure from the start of the Amy Poole investigation. She had been selected for a reason, and now, this brilliant young detective was being made the scapegoat.
‘None of this was your fault, you know that don’t you?’ Deans said.
She pouted and flicked hair over her shoulder with a hand.
‘Jackson is at the root of everything that has gone wrong,’ Deans continued.
Sarah caught his eye and looked away again.
‘Was Jackson a PC in Torworthy?’ Deans asked.
‘Yes. He was still a PC when I first met him.’
‘When did he move across to Exeter?’
‘He was promoted into position about six years ago…’
‘But he still comes back?’
Sarah nodded.
Deans heaved a deep breath and looked out of the window.
‘Have you ever seen Jackson and Babbage together at any time during this investigation?’ he asked, still looking outside.
Deans turned back when Sarah didn’t answer.
‘Well yes,’ she said. ‘At the final interview and when Babbage was released from prison.’
Deans smiled. ‘Thanks for the coffee, Sarah.’
Chapter 45
Deans and Denise waited in the small car park beside the haunted house. They had been sitting there for almost two hours. Deans checked his phone, five fifty-three p.m. Ranford said he would be there just after four. He must have become tied up with a job, but he could have let Deans know. Beautiful as the view had been, Deans was now freezing his nuts off. He stared up at the walls; the silhouette against the darkening sky was classic Hammer House of Horrors. The steady growl of waves reminded him of the nights he had slept nearby in his car.
He clambered out of the passenger side and looked around him. The only sign of life was the glowing windows from a property further back towards the village – probably the caretaker’s home. Deans smiled inwardly – it was looking like they would not be disturbed tonight.
The sound of an approaching vehicle caught Deans’ attention and bright headlights dazzled in his face. It was a marked police unit.
The squad car pulled up alongside and Ranford and Mansfield stepped out.
‘Thought using one of these might help,’ Ranford said.
Deans extended Mansfield a reluctant nod. Mansfield returned the gesture and removed several large Dragon Lamps from the boot of his vehicle as Denise stepped out of the car.
‘What’s she doing here?’ Mansfield asked abruptly.
‘We don’t go inside unless Denise is with us,’ Deans replied. ‘You got a problem with that; you can sit outside in your car, in the cold.’
‘Okay you two,’ Ranford said, grabbing two of the lamps from Mansfield and handing one to Deans. He grasped Deans by the elbow and turned him to the side, with his back on the others. ‘Seriously?’ he asked quietly in Deans’ ear.
‘Same goes for you,’ Deans said and gave Ranford a fierce look.
Ranford scowled but agreed.
‘So what are we after?’ Mansfield asked, hurdling the low, crumbling boundary wall and lighting up the front of the house with the brilliant whiteness of a million candle lights from his lamp.
‘Why did you ask me to bring him?’ Ranford whispered to Deans as they walked shoulder-to-shoulder toward the house.
‘Sometimes it’s better the devil you know…you know?’ Deans muttered under his breath.
Mansfield was already out of sight. Ranford helped Denise over the wall and then assisted Deans with his stiff leg and crutches.
‘What are we looking for anyway, Andy?’ Ranford asked as they neared the side entrance.
‘I’ll know when I see it,’ Deans replied.
‘I don’t understand,’ Ranford said, ‘Why would this place have anything to do with Maria?’
Deans shrugged. ‘I guess we are all going to find out.’
Ranford went ahead of Deans and joined Mansfield at the decaying side door.
‘Shall we boot it in?’ Mansfield asked, his voice full of excitement.
‘God, no,’ Ranford answered quickly. ‘Look in the boot of the car,’ he said. ‘We should have a jemmy.’ Mansfield grinned and raced back to the car.
Ranford stood between Deans and the door. ‘I really don’t know what you hope to achieve other than potentially dropping us all in the shit with this stunt.’
‘Just wait and see,’ Deans said.
Mansfield returned and went straight to work on the door lock, springing the latch with one firm shove of the bar. ‘Awesome,’ Mansfield chuckled. ‘What a shit-hole, I’ve been dying to see this place since I was a kid.’
‘Careful,’ Ranford said, handing Mansfield a dragon lamp. ‘Think about squatters and other hazards.’
‘No one is going to live in this dump, not even squatters,’ Mansfield said, directing the bright beam of light around the internal walls and ceilings, before charging off into the building with complete disregard for his own safety.
‘I need to go upstairs,’ Deans said to Ranford as they moved through the doorway.
The three of them traipsed through the hallway. Deans’ heavy cast clunking loudly on the exposed wooden floorboards every other step. They reached the base of the stairs, Ranford at the lead. A brittle chill filled Deans’ spine, neck and head. He faced Denise who was already wide-eyed and staring back at him.
Mansfield rejoined them and raced to the front. ‘Let me go first,’ he said, his lamp already illuminating the rungs and handrails of the stairway.
Deans glanced at Ranford who shrugged and shook his head. Deans looked back at Deni
se; she was hugging herself with her coat wrapped tightly around her body. Mansfield was providing an expletive commentary as he raced ahead up the stairs.
When they all reached the second level, Deans saw Mansfield shining his light through a large hole in the floorboards and giggling like an excitable teen.
‘Can you have a look over there?’ Deans asked Mansfield, pointing in the opposite direction to where Deans really needed to be. Mansfield darted off as directed; still expressing his apparent surprise at each new room he entered.
Deans noticed Ranford was staring at him. ‘What?’ Deans asked.
‘Your nose is bleeding,’ Ranford said.
Deans wiped his face and saw a smear of blood on the back of his hand. Ranford passed him a tissue from his pocket and Deans staunched the flow. He glanced over at Denise. She acknowledged and came alongside him at the doorway to Ruby Mansell’s room.
Deans turned away from Ranford, closed his eyes and said to himself, Amy, show me what I need to see.
He took a deep breath, twisted the handle and the door creaked open.
Ranford grabbed the crook of Deans’ arm. ‘Oh! Come on, Andy, this is minging.’
‘Just one minute,’ Deans said, tugging his arm back. ‘I just need one minute.’
‘What have you guys got over there?’ Mansfield shouted from across the landing and came bounding over to the room. ‘Wow! Look at that old thing,’ Mansfield enthused. ‘That’s seen a bit of action by the looks of it.’
Deans peered at the bed. Something about it had to be significant? He stepped slowly inside and directed his lamp around the room. The razor sharp edges of the light picked up every individual particle of dust thrown into the air from the opening door. Deans hesitated and looked back at the others. Ranford and Mansfield were staying outside. Deans slowly rounded the bed, taking everything in.
‘Come on then, Andy,’ Ranford said impatiently. ‘We’d better get going. There’s nothing in this old place.’
As Deans reached the opposite side of the bed frame he noticed something on the floor and knelt down – as much as his leg cast would allow.
‘What is it?’ Mansfield asked stepping forwards.
Deans took out his mobile phone and snapped a quick sequence of pictures, tracing the lamp light up and around the metal bed frame. He scanned the floor and took another burst of shots.
‘I’m going back downstairs,’ Ranford said. ‘We’ve been in here too long. Somebody is going to notice sooner or later.’
‘Okay,’ Deans replied. ‘I just need another thirty seconds and I’ll be there.’ He studied the upright of the bed frame again and gently blew air onto the floorboards – just enough to shift the top layer of dust.
He paused, stood up again and sniffed the air.
‘Anything?’ Mansfield asked.
Deans shook his head. ‘No. Come on.’
Chapter 46
Deans hung back with Denise. ‘Did you see that?’ he asked.
‘It’s not real, Andy. It wasn’t really there.’
‘The others couldn’t see it, could they?’
She shook her head. ‘No. Only those of us with the gift can see beyond reality.’
‘So what does it mean?’ he asked, ensuring his words were not overheard by the others.
‘The guardians will make that clear to you in time.’
‘Okay,’ he said, stopping her at the top of the stairs. ‘How do you interpret it?’
Denise let out a controlled exhalation of breath. ‘It’s Maria. She was here. But not necessarily in that room. We saw the marks on the bedframe and the spots of blood on the floor. But they weren’t really there. It was a sign—’
‘But I’ve taken photos,’ Deans said, urgently swiping the screen of his phone. ‘Eh?’ he questioned, bringing the screen closer to his face. ‘It’s gone. It’s not there.’
‘That was a message for you in the moment, not to be kept for prosperity,’ Denise said.
‘So what now?’ he asked. ‘How do I move forward?’
Denise touched his hand. ‘I don’t know the answer to that, flower. You are way more connected to this than I am.’
They walked side-by-side down the steps and met Ranford and Mansfield at the bottom. The lower they descended, the colder Deans became. He recalled seeing Denise wrap herself in her coat before moving upstairs.
‘Wait here a moment,’ he said to the others and walked slowly along the hallway, sensing the changing air temperature.
He stopped outside of a closed door, opened it and shone his lamp; it was just another empty reception room at the back of the house, but a surge of energy plummeted into the pit of his stomach.
It was here, he thought and looked back for Denise. She was behind Ranford and Mansfield who had blocked her way through the narrow hallway.
Deans clomped slowly into the room. His head was becoming light and dizzy. He moved closer to the window and suddenly stopped. He took several paces backwards and then moved forwards once again.
In the hallway, Mansfield was chuntering something incoherent.
‘Everyone shut up,’ Deans shouted and repeated the steps backwards and forwards. He shone the light around his feet. There was a dirty old sheet covering a large section of the floor. He used the end of his walking stick to pull the sheet to one side and he repeated his steps again, but this time stamped down with the base of his leg cast. ‘In here,’ he shouted.
The others joined him inside the room.
‘There’s some kind of false floor, or trap door, under my feet,’ Deans said and stomped on the floor again. The change in tone was now more obvious.
‘Cool,’ Mansfield said eagerly, and dropped to his knees, almost at once locating a moveable edge within the floorboards and lifting it.
The floor sucked and a cold torrent of air billowed into the room from below them.
‘Come on,’ Mansfield said, ‘bring over the lamps, this is well spooky.’
They all stood around and watched Mansfield lift and remove the five-square-feet of shutter door from the floorboards.
‘Wow!’ Mansfield said. ‘This place is even better than I imagined.’ He stuck his head into the hole and shone his lamp around the void. Deans saw light escaping through the gaps in the floorboards. It was clearly quite a sizeable space below their feet.
‘I’m going in,’ Mansfield said. ‘I can see a ladder.’
‘Hold on,’ Ranford said quickly. ‘We don’t know how safe that is. I don’t think it’s a good idea.’
‘I’m going down,’ Deans said, moving beyond Ranford.
‘Andy – you can’t go down there,’ Ranford said. ‘Your leg – if something happens to you, how the hell would we get you back out?’
Deans ignored Ranford and sat on the edge of the trap door entrance, his legs dangling into the pit. Mansfield had already dropped down and brought a metal three-step ladder beneath Deans’ legs.
‘I’ll help you in,’ Mansfield’s echoing voice sounded from beneath the floorboards. Deans felt hands around the bottom of his legs and gentle tugs of encouragement from Mansfield. He manoeuvred his body and slowly dropped down into the hole.
The floor was rough concrete, and the air was freezer-cold with a strong draught biting around their feet. The ceiling was just high enough for Deans to stand with his head slightly bent forwards.
Ranford and then Denise followed into the cellar. Denise was noticeably quieter and tucked herself close in to Deans, looping an arm through his. Deans instinctively lit up the back wall with light.
‘What’s that?’ Ranford said, and they all edged closer.
Attached to the wall were three chained shackles. The central one positioned higher and with a larger diameter.
‘It’s only a bloody torture chamber,’ Mansfield grinned and stepped towards the restraints with Ranford close behind him.
‘Don’t touch them,’ Deans shouted.
‘Come on, Andy, these have been here for ages,’ Ranford said
, grabbing and tugging each of the thick steel bracelets in turn. They were clearly well secured to the wall. The two outer shackles had shorter chains than the one in the middle. Deans calculated a visual measurement from the floor; they were at kneeling height. Deans dropped to his knees as a strong surge of light-headedness overcame him. He reached forward to break his fall and planted his hands onto the damp and sticky floor.
‘Shine a light,’ Deans shouted as Denise came to his aid. The strobe from Mansfield’s lamp illuminated Deans’ hands. They were red.
‘You’re bleeding again,’ Denise said.
‘No,’ Deans replied. ‘It’s not mine.’
Deans grabbed the lamp from Mansfield and shone it around the floor. There was a large damp patch between him and the shackles. Deans followed the line of the wall with his light and saw a deep gutter carved into the concrete floor. He followed the channel around the square shaped cellar to the wall behind them – the external wall. There was a large square hole in the base of the wall, big enough to crawl through. Denise helped Deans to his feet and they moved towards the gap in the wall. He shone the lamp and saw the jagged rocks of the cliff edge and the pulsing waters below. He quickly looked back to the others. Oh no.
‘Look over here,’ Mansfield said further along the wall. He twisted a tap and water poured out of a short length of hosepipe. ‘Why would this place have a water supply?’ Mansfield asked.
‘We need to seal this off,’ Deans said to Ranford. ‘We need to test this blood and prove it is human.’
‘Hang on everyone… Please,’ Ranford said. ‘I think we have all got a little carried away with the legend of this place. Andy, that could be rat blood, or anything. The local cats or foxes might bring their kills in through that gap—’
‘And then use the taps to wash the mess away?’ Mansfield joked.
‘You should wash that blood off, you could get a nasty disease,’ Ranford said to Deans.
‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Deans said, swilling his hands beneath the running tap, but only after placing one hand into his trouser pocket and wiping it into the material.
‘I’m beginning to feel a little claustrophobic,’ Ranford said. ‘Anyone joining me up top?’
The Detective Deans Mystery Collection Page 47
