The Island Murders (Dorset Crime Book 3)

by Rachel McLean

  “I’m not surprised, turning up like this. She’s worried.”

  Sharon shrugged. “I couldn’t take it anymore. Not with Julieta and that sprog of hers.”

  “He’s not a sprog,” Elsa said. “He’s her son.”

  Julieta, Lesley’s ex’s new girlfriend, had a three-year-old boy. Elsa could imagine what it would be like for Sharon having to put up with an extra child in the house. The feeling of being usurped.

  “You can’t stay here forever,” she said. “Haven’t you got school?”

  Sharon turned in her seat and looked at Elsa. “It’s school holidays, isn’t it?”

  Elsa clenched her fists. On the times she’d met Sharon before, the girl had been pleasant, fun even. What was with this attitude?

  “So were you on the phone to your mum just then? What did you agree with her?”

  “She’s coming back tonight. She was supposed to be staying on the island, but she wants to check up on me.”

  “She wants to know you’re OK,” Elsa said.

  Sharon shrugged.

  Elsa sighed. “Anyway, I didn’t come back for long. I’ve still got work to do.”

  Sharon looked at her, her expression dazed.

  Elsa had been intending to work from home. She often spread papers across the dining table over by the window, enjoying the peace and quiet compared to the office. By coming home early, she figured she could kill two birds with one stone. Catch up with a backlog of paperwork and keep an eye on Lesley’s daughter. Now, she wasn’t so keen on the idea. She looked at her watch.

  “I’ll be back by seven o’clock,” she said. “What time did your mum say she’d be back?”

  “About the same,” Sharon replied. “She’s got to organise a boat off the island with uniformed police.”

  “Good,” Elsa said. “I’ll see you later.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Lesley stood up. “Right, I’m going to see Anya Davinski right now.”

  She strode out of the makeshift office and hurried towards Anya’s house. It was a few doors up from the one that she’d been allocated, looking out to sea. She wondered if it was in a better condition than her own.

  As she approached, Tina appeared from the National Trust admin building.

  “Boss.” Tina said, “Everything all right?”

  Lesley slowed, aware that she was panting.

  She shook her head. “Have you spoken to Anya Davinski yet?”

  “I spoke to her about an hour ago.”

  “Did she say anything about the argument?”

  Tina shook her head. “She told me she didn’t hear anything.”

  “What about her meeting Simone on Monday night?”

  “She said Simone left her at about nine, that she went home afterwards. So did Simone, as far as she knew.”

  Lesley put her hand to her forehead and looked past Tina towards the house. “She’s lying.”

  “About what?”

  “It was Anya who was in that argument on Monday night. With Natasha Williams.”

  “Natasha?”

  Lesley nodded.

  “What time?” Tina asked.

  “Ten past nine. We’ve got video.”

  “So she didn’t go home after seeing Simone.”

  “No,” Lesley replied. “She was by the church. With Natasha.”

  “Did Natasha say anything about it when you spoke to her?” Tina asked.

  “Not a dicky bird.”

  Tina looked at Lesley, waiting for instructions. Lesley thought over her conversation with Natasha.

  “I didn’t ask her if she argued with Simone,” she said. “She didn’t lie to me. Not directly.”

  “But Anya did,” Tina pointed out. “She told me she went straight home after seeing Simone.”

  “She might have done that,” Lesley said. “And then gone out again. But both of them are hiding something.”

  She chewed her lip. “OK,” she continued. “I want both of us in with each of them this time. I don’t want to miss anything, and I want them to understand this is serious.”

  “Which one first?”

  Natasha would be at home with her husband. The journalist. Lesley didn’t want him there while she spoke to the woman.

  And Anya was closer.

  “Anya first,” she said. She had a feeling Anya would be more likely to open up.

  “Right.” Tina turned away from Lesley and made for Anya’s house. She was already knocking on the door when Lesley caught up with her.

  A boat was approaching, heading in towards the quay. Lesley frowned. It would be coming for the John Lewis staff.

  Tina knocked again. Lesley went to the front window and peered inside. The room was empty.

  “Have you seen her leave?” she asked Tina.

  “I went to Frankie Quinn’s house, over on the other side of the island. Anya might have left at any time.”

  Lesley plunged her fist into her hair. “What’s Anya’s job? Where will she be?”

  “Habitats, apparently.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Tina shrugged.

  “OK.” Lesley grabbed her phone and dialled.

  “DCI Clarke, everything OK?”

  “All fine, Ed,” Lesley said. She didn’t want to alarm him. “We’re working our way through interviews, and wanted to chat to the people Simone worked most closely with again. Can you tell me where I’ll find Anya Davinski if she’s not at home?”

  A pause. “At this time of year she’d be up in the woods on the north of the island. There’s a maintenance project going on up there, creating some squirrel sanctuaries.”

  Squirrel sanctuaries. Lesley wouldn’t know what one of those was if it hit her with an acorn. “Can you be more specific?”

  “Try the area around West Lake. That’s where they were working last week.”

  “They?”

  “Anya has a team of volunteers reporting to her.”

  “But they’ve not been allowed back yet.”

  “Still, that’s where I imagine she’ll be. Is there anything I need to know about?”

  “Not right now, I just want a chat with her. Thanks.”

  Lesley hung up. “Come on, then.”

  “Boss.” Tina nodded and started walking. Lesley didn’t envy her, yomping around this island on a hot day in her heavy uniform.

  As they passed the quay, Yolanda Harte was watching the boat.

  “Afternoon, Detective,” she said.

  “Afternoon, Ms Harte. Is this boat here to take your staff off the island?”

  “It is.”

  “We’ll need to check that only authorised people are leaving. And that no unauthorised people come onto the island.”

  Yolanda folded her arms. “Now why would we do that, Detective?”

  Lesley had no reason to suspect that Yolanda would do anything of the sort. But she needed to keep tabs on who was coming and going. There’d been no sign yet of the journalist who’d threatened to appear, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t on her way.

  “I’m going to get one of our uniformed constables here,” she said. “He’ll log people onto this boat.” She watched as the boat docked. “Don’t let it leave till he’s done that.”

  Yolanda gave her a thin smile. “I can assure you we’ll keep everything above board.”

  Lesley nodded at Tina, who spoke into her radio. “Five minutes, boss.”

  “His name’s PC McGuigan,” Lesley told Yolanda. “You can expect him in the next five minutes.”

  Yolanda treated her to another of her superior smiles and Lesley gestured for Tina to come with her.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  As Frankie approached the church, she spotted Natasha and Anya heading up from the direction of the farm buildings.

  “Hi,” she said, hurrying to catch the other women. “I was on my way to your house, Nat. Thought I’d check in after finishing work.”

  Natasha gave her a thin smile. “How are you?”
/>   Frankie shrugged. “Oh, you know…”

  Natasha put a hand on her arm. “You got time for a cuppa?”

  Frankie eyed Anya, who frowned at her. “Yes.”

  They walked to Natasha’s house in companionable silence, listening to the sounds of the island. Birds over by the waterfront, the wind rustling through the branches in the woods. Frankie loved it here.

  When they arrived at the house, Natasha went ahead to unlock the door.

  “Everything OK?” Frankie muttered to Anya.

  Anya shook her head, glancing at Natasha who was entering the house.

  “Later,” she whispered. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Natasha stopped in the doorway and turned to them. “You two alright?” She gave Anya a wary look.

  “We’re fine,” said Frankie.

  “Well,” said Anya. “Not fine.” She approached Natasha. “As fine as we can be in the circumstances.”

  Natasha gave Anya a long look. Frankie wondered what they’d been talking about before she’d spotted them. There was an air of a conversation being unfinished.

  “So, how did you get on today, Frankie?” Natasha asked as Frankie followed her into the kitchen.

  Frankie took a chair and watched as Natasha filled the teapot with hot water and stirred it with a spoon. She lifted the teapot, looking at Frankie, eyebrows raised. Frankie nodded and Natasha poured her a cup of tea.

  She wasn’t habitually a tea drinker, but there was something in the way Natasha did this. It was a ritual, the pot of tea on the table, the tin of biscuits next to it. It felt old-fashioned and homely.

  “The usual,” she said. “The lake hide got some damage in the storm on Sunday night. I need volunteers to help fix it, but I’ve managed to do what I can on my own.”

  “Will it be a problem?” Natasha asked.

  “Not so long as we get the volunteers back soon.”

  “Glad to see things getting back to normal for some people,” said Anya.

  Frankie looked at her. “Why? What’s up with you?”

  Anya shook her head. “Nothing, sorry. I’m just out of sorts.”

  Natasha sat down and poured herself a mug of tea. “It’s good to have the two of you here.” She grabbed the other two women’s hands. “We need to stick together, we need to look after each other.”

  Frankie locked eyes with Anya. She wanted to know why Anya had texted her. Even more, she wanted to know why they couldn’t talk about it in front of Natasha.

  She heard the front door closing in the hall behind her. Natasha let go of Frankie and Anya’s hands and plunged her own hands beneath the table. She sat upright in her chair, her right eye twitching. Frankie leaned towards her.

  “You alright, Nat?”

  “I’m fine.”

  The kitchen door opened and Bernard entered. He wore a broad smile, his eyes on his wife.

  “Hello, darling.”

  Natasha looked up slowly and returned his gaze. Frankie watched her, wondering why she’d let go of her hand so abruptly.

  Bernard strolled around the table, giving each of Frankie and Anya a smile. He reached Natasha and put his hands on her shoulders. Natasha tensed for a moment and then relaxed and leaned back, her head against Bernard’s stomach. Bernard bent over and kissed his wife on the top of the head.

  “Good to see you all here,” he said.

  He stood with his hands on Natasha’s shoulders, looking between Frankie and Anya. Frankie sensed that they were expected to leave.

  Natasha brought her hand out from under the table and reached up to grab Bernard’s hand. She closed her eyes, her hands clasped with Bernard’s.

  Frankie rose slowly from her chair. She felt awkward.

  “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.

  She caught Anya’s eye and flicked her head in a beckoning gesture. Anya shook her head. Frankie stared at her for a moment, then turned and left the room.

  She grabbed her coat from the hook in the hallway and opened the front door. She moved slowly, waiting for Anya to catch up, but there was no sound from the kitchen.

  Was there something she was being excluded from, or was Anya just avoiding her? She’d already told her she wanted to meet later on.

  Frankie stepped outside. She stopped to listen. A Dartford warbler was singing somewhere nearby. She scanned the grassland ahead but saw nothing. She forced herself to listen. It was a reassuring sound. Life went on for the wildlife they were here to protect.

  She should stop worrying about Anya. She would meet her friend later, and she’d find out what was going on.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Lesley and Tina arrived at a lake surrounded by forest.

  “This is East Lake,” Tina said. “The one Ed said she’d be at is further on.”

  Lesley strode on ahead, impatient. This place was huge, and they didn’t know their way around nearly as well as the residents. Anybody could be hiding out here.

  At last they reached the second lake. It was almost rectangular, with an island toward the other end.

  “Where will she be?” Tina asked.

  Lesley shrugged. She checked her watch: five fifteen. “What time does the boat go back to Poole?”

  “Six.”

  “We’d better get a move on, then. I’ll go clockwise, you go anticlockwise.”

  Circling the lake wasn’t as easy as Lesley had hoped. There was no path, and she had to battle her way through shrubs and undergrowth. Above her, trees rose up, birds louder than she was used to in the parks she’d occasionally walked through in Birmingham.

  “Bloody hell,” she muttered as her skirt caught for the third time on a branch. “How does anyone work here?”

  After ten minutes she spotted Tina up ahead. They’d made a full circuit.

  “Any sign?” Lesley asked.

  Tina shook her head. “I passed a clearing where it looked like people had been working, but there was nobody there.”

  “Damn.” Lesley checked her watch. “OK. We both need to get on that boat. We’ll talk to them in the morning, they’re not going anywhere.”

  Tina shrugged. “Sorry, boss.”

  “Not your fault, PC Abbott. This is just a bloody inconvenient place to investigate a murder.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Dennis had been watching Johnny all day.

  The DC startled whenever a phone rang. He kept turning to look when the door to the office opened, and he couldn’t settle in his chair. When Mike had asked him if he was OK, he’d replied that he was worried about his wife. She was doing fine, apparently, just a false scare. But he insisted he was in a hurry to get home to her.

  At half past five Johnny glanced up at the clock and looked at Dennis across the desks. “Sarge, can I ask a favour please?”

  Dennis cocked his head. “Go on.”

  “It’s just with my wife not being all that well and that, d’you mind if I head off?”

  Dennis considered. They were in the middle of a murder inquiry. They might not be on the island dealing with the witnesses, but they were processing all the evidence that was coming in. Johnny and Mike had spent the day working through the list of National Trust members who’d visited the island on Monday, checking them against police records and making calls. And Johnny had already as good as admitted that there was nothing wrong with his wife after all.

  Dennis nodded towards Lesley’s office. “Can I have a quick word please, son?”

  Johnny flushed. He glanced at Mike, who averted his gaze.

  “Of course, Sarge,” Johnny said. He followed Dennis into the office.

  Dennis leaned against the DCI’s desk and gestured for Johnny to close the door.

  “You say you need to go home early because of your wife?” he said.

  “I know it’s not the best time. But it’s our first baby, and that…”

  Dennis gave Johnny a long, slow nod, looking into his eyes. He waited. Johnny said nothing.

  “Sit down, John
ny.”

  Johnny took a seat, looking out towards the outer office and licking his lips. He couldn’t have looked any more nervous if he’d tried.

  Dennis took the other chair. He leaned forwards, his hands on his knees. He hated doing this.

  “I rang your house, Johnny. This morning, when you were late in. I was worried about you, wanted to check things were OK.”

  Johnny’s eyes widened. “Sorry, Sarge. You must have missed me.”

  Dennis swallowed. “I spoke to your wife, Johnny.”

  Johnny looked back at him. He stared into Dennis’s face for a moment and then slumped in his chair. He looked down at his hands, twisting in his lap.

  “I’m sorry, Sarge.”

  Dennis reached out and put his hand over Johnny’s, making the DC stop moving them. He was trying to understand what the DC was going through. But he also knew what Johnny had promised him.

  “Did you get a call?” he asked. “Yesterday, when you were on the island?”

  Johnny looked up. Tears pricked his eyes. “I’m sorry, Sarge. I know I told you…”

  Dennis felt his chest hollow out. He’d known Johnny for eighteen years. He’d trusted him. When he’d discovered Johnny was being blackmailed by Arthur Kelvin, he’d promised to help him get free.

  It hadn’t worked.

  “It wasn’t just about the Harry Nichol file, was it, Johnny? What else did they want you to do?” he asked.

  “It was Kelvin’s lawyer,” Johnny said. “He wanted me to see her. Last night, after I got off the boat.”

  “Why?”

  “She asked for the file on a burglary case in Dorchester.”

  “And you gave it to her?” Dennis asked.

  Johnny shrank back from Dennis, pushing his hand away.

  “You hate me, don’t you?”

  Dennis looked at him. “I don’t hate you, Johnny. But I do hate what you’re doing. And you already told me you were stopping. You need to stop this, you need to tell Kelvin no more.”

  Johnny shook his head, his gaze downwards.

  “It’s not as easy as that. My brother.”

  “I know family’s important, Johnny. But this is your career on the line, your credibility. If this carries on, I’ll have to tell the DCI. You’ll lose your job, your pension. How’s that going to be for your wife and the baby?”