‘So,’ continued Sally, ‘is there anybody here who would want him dead? Apart from the ex-commanding officer, of course?’
‘Good God, no. He was a sad case, but much liked and respected for many years.’ Allport got to his feet and stared out the window. ‘Nobody wanted him dead, Sergeant. We helped him as much as we could.’
Dan got to his feet and offered his hand to the colonel. ‘Thank you for all your help, sir,’ he said. ‘It must have been a terrible thing to watch a friend go downhill like that. There’s just one more thing I would like to ask.’
‘I was expecting this,’ Allport said. ‘You want me to identify the body?’
‘Please. It’s not as bad as you might think, his upper body was less … damaged than the rest.’
‘I’ll do it, it wouldn’t be appropriate to ask his ex-wife. Just tell me when.’ Allport shook Dan’s hand and escorted him and Sally from his office.
* * *
It was a short walk to the back gate that led out onto the public footpath and the tiny train stop for the Exmouth to Exeter train. The duty marine unlocked the gate and waited for them. They crossed to the shelter, and there, sure enough, hidden under the metal bench, was a folded up sleeping bag, empty food containers and a bag of spare clothes.
‘I can’t believe he lived here,’ said Sally. ‘How do people live like this?’
‘I guess he couldn’t quite move on,’ said Dan, ‘and this was the closest he could get to what he’d thrown away. Poor bloke. He certainly didn’t deserve to die for it.’ He sent Sally back to the car to collect a large evidence bag, some gloves, and several small bags. This would all add to the evidence pile, but it still didn't give him a clue as to the motive for murder. Was there more to Ongar’s attachment to the barracks than he’d been told? How much would Allport keep from the police if he could?
14
A night out with Neil Pargeter could turn into a session that Dan could not afford this early on in a new case. It usually involved music, beer, and an ill-advised curry eaten too late for it to digest before he went to sleep. Cue a bad night. After the fun, you have to pay, he thought. On the other hand, they had to celebrate both promotions, didn’t they? Claire had gone out with a couple of her friends for a meal, but he’d asked her to text him at 11pm, before she went to bed, to remind him to go back to the flat and sleep before he lost the following day to a hangover.
Dan worked his way slowly across town, glad that the storm had passed over after two days of non-stop rain. Tonight, it was cold and clear. He drove into his parking space and reflected that it was probably one of the last nights he’d spend in his flat for some time. Was he being a complete idiot in keeping the flat on and letting Alison use it? It would be cheaper for him to pay to put Alison up in a shared house somewhere. But then he couldn’t keep an eye on her so easily, and now she was on the straight and narrow, it would be good to keep her there where he had a key and access. Just until he was sure it was all going well.
He took a couple of minutes to knock on the doors of the three other flats that shared his landing, to tell his elderly neighbours about Alison. A small white lie was called for, he decided. He stuck to a story that she had been very ill, was recuperating, and would be staying there until she found her feet and was able to look for her own place. Satisfied, he dropped clean clothes for the following day on the bed, a pint of milk into the fridge, and a bunch of flowers from Claire to Alison into a measuring jug. Flowers didn’t enter his consciousness much, and buying a vase was beyond him.
* * *
Neil was waiting in the curry house and was halfway down his first beer when Dan arrived. He stood up to shake hands, but Dan moved in and gave him a hug. ‘Congratulations, Prof. You really did it, then?’
‘Ah, mate, it was like doing my viva exam all over again.’ Neil gave a mock shudder and sat back down, pulling out a chair for Dan. ‘Bloody terrifying. Let’s order, I’m starving,’ he said.
Onion bhajis came first, with poppadums and dips. Dan ate a mouthful: hot but not outrageous, tasty. ‘Neil, I’ve got this new case …’
‘Too right you have. It’s been all over the Uni this week.’ He mopped up mango chutney on a poppadum shard. ‘You don’t need me to look at the bones, do you? Can’t be an archaeology slant to it, can there?’
‘No, it’s not that. We’ve ID’d him already. No, I’m stuck on the possibility of it being a ritual murder, and I know nothing about all that kind of stuff. No, I was wondering if there was anyone at the university who I could talk to about it.’
Neil chewed a mouthful of bhaji. ‘I can put you in touch with Nav, I suppose. Professor Navinder Patel is in charge of the Ancient Religions courses. He might be able to help.’
Dan made a note of the name then forgot about the job and got to work on the lamb curry.
An hour or so later the table was a shambles of naan bread crusts, Rogan Josh sauce stains and empty beer glasses; both men leaned back on their chairs, loosening their belts.
‘That was good,’ said Dan, belching quietly and enjoying the flavour all over again.
‘Few more beers should sort us out for the night I reckon,’ said Neil. ‘There’s a band on at the arts centre we can drop in on. Just a student gig, I think.’
Dan checked his phone. Mercifully no messages from work, and it was still too early for his goodnight text.
‘She’s got her claws well into you, mate,’ laughed Neil, nodding towards the phone. ‘Have you had your late-night pass signed?’
Dan winced. ‘Yeah, but she’s fine about me having a night out. I can’t blame Claire. It’s me that’s worried. Once I get beyond the fourth pint I lose all perspective, and I can’t afford to do that at this point in the case.’
‘No worries, we’ll just have another one, and then you can stagger off and I’ll watch the band, okay?’
The band may have been students but they were good. A great girl singer, with a husky voice and a good range, belted out everything from Annie Lennox to Aretha Franklin and the place was hopping. Dan stood at the bar and tapped his foot, watching the crowd enjoying themselves. On impulse, he’d rung and asked Alison if she wanted to come down for an hour. Currently she was leaping about with Neil on the dance floor. He was worried that they were getting on a bit too well, but he thought he’d done the right thing. He just hoped that not inviting Claire and her mates had been the right thing to do too.
Claire, spookily psychic as always, text him as he was having that thought. He text back:
Am sober and stuffed, watching band at Arts centre with Neil and Alison. Thought she needed night out. Sleep tight. Love you. Xxx
The song finished and his two companions, dripping with sweat, pushed their way back to the bar to find him. Alison’s eyes were shining. So were Neil’s. Dan battled with himself. He hadn’t foreseen this, but who was he to stop them enjoying themselves if they wanted to? Who was he to say to Neil: stay away mate, she’s such bad news? Wasn’t he old enough to find that out for himself? Dan had already told him enough to frighten off any sane bloke. He still felt uncomfortable seeing them together, though. He needed to talk to Claire about it. She’d give him some sound advice.
‘I’ll get the round in,’ he said, as Alison disappeared to the ladies.
‘It’s okay, mate,’ said Neil as they waited to be served, ‘I can see the worry all over your face. I’m not going to get involved with your big sister. It’s just nice to have a bit of female company and someone to dance with, all right? I mean, no offence, but you’re no Justin Timberlake.’
Dan laughed. Cheek. At well over six feet tall, Neil’s dancing resembled a flamingo in a mating ritual more than anything else. ‘All right, but just be careful, that’s all I’m saying.’ He passed Neil his beer and left Alison’s on the bar. ‘Right, if you’re absolutely sure you won’t miss me, and you’re wearing your chastity belt, I’m off home to my bed.’ He gave Neil another hug. ‘Congratulations, again, mate,’ he said, ‘you’ll
be a great professor. Shake the old buggers up a bit, eh?’
15
The five of them had built the bonfire during the day, carrying beach debris and shifting bits of tree, sticks and small logs from the back of Kegan’s old Land Rover, right into the heart of the Dawlish Warren dunes. Then Kegan had taken off to collect the next ‘sacrifice’. Jay Vine finished making the body-sized space, in the fire, that the guy would be pushed into. He was finding it hard to keep panic and desperation at bay.
He moved away into the shadows and sat quietly against a tree smoking a spliff, watching the scene unfold. Scarlett and Amber were off in the dunes locating six big, flat stones to set around the unlit fire. Not far away, a train rattled along the track back to Exeter and made him jump. Tana was using the last of the light to paint her face in the black and red swirls she seemed to find necessary.
Nobody was talking to him since he’d walked out on them in the cafe and had refused to attend the evening meeting. He felt invisible. Insignificant. Why didn’t he just get up and run? Dropping his head onto his chest, he admitted to himself that he was scared to stay but even more scared to run. Kegan would kill him if he ran. He was sure of that.
It was hard for him to comprehend that they were actually doing it again. Going along with Tana’s crazy plan. Willingly. Scarlett and Amber were just as into it as the other two. Their eyes slipped past him as Tana called them over to sit on the stones.
Even at 6pm fireworks whizzed and hooted up into a sky shot through with colour and noise. Across the estuary, Exmouth glittered as more and more people arrived for the lighting of the grand bonfire and firework display.
Tana was standing in a small circle of stones, holding a torch that lit her face from underneath, staring up at the sky. Wearing black from head to toe, and with her wild red hair and painted face, she looked every inch the fire goddess.
Amber was taking stills of her and shooting short videos as she danced and writhed near the fire. They were enjoying themselves. He hoped that the poor fool they had lined up for tonight was a better fighter than the old bloke last week had been, and that he might fight back and run off into the dunes. Then they could just have a fire and a drink and go home like the rest of the country on Bonfire Night. Not that that was likely. She wanted three sacrifices, so someone was going to die tonight. Or another night.
Jay got up and wandered off along the path towards the deserted holiday park behind the dunes. Kegan had set the bonfire in a natural dip in the sand dunes, where grass grew and they would be sheltered from prying eyes. Jay felt lonely without Scarlett; they hadn’t spoken since the day after the last fire and she still wouldn’t look him in the eye. She had changed so much. What had started out as a laugh had turned her into something else, someone he didn’t know at all. He pushed on, over the grass, and followed the lane towards the main road to Exeter. Out there, in a pub somewhere, Kegan was getting the sacrifice drunk and promising him a great night out at a bonfire on the beach.
Jay was looking for a phone box, hoping that somehow, he might be able to get a message to the police before it was too late. He’d been very late the first time. It had only dawned on him as they were making their escape that there might still be a chance to save the man. He hit himself on the side of the head, hard. The man Jay was now snarled at the naivety of the boy he had been just a few days earlier. He walked faster, looking out for phone boxes.
If he could somehow mark out his route for later, and make a run for it as soon as Kegan arrived, he might be able to get to the phone before they realised he’d gone. A moment later he shook his head yet again at his own stupidity. As if he’d even get the opportunity this time. As if they’d take their eyes off him. And there was no sign of a payphone on this deserted, crappy beach, or on the road into Dawlish.
The nearest public phone, it turned out, was right in the middle of the town, and it had taken him twenty minutes to walk in from the beachfront. He stared at the phone box from the shelter of a shop doorway. Too open. Too many cameras around. No good. No, he would have to use his own phone then throw it away and pretend it had been stolen. It was the right thing to do and it was the only way to stop this madness. He should do it now, shouldn’t he? He knew he wouldn’t.
Scared and depressed, he turned round and trudged back, hopelessness settling like a noose around his neck. Damned if he did; damned if he didn’t.
It was properly dark down in the dunes when he returned. Scarlett stood up as he arrived then sat down when she saw who it was. There were three places left. He took the one between her and Amber. They didn’t acknowledge him, but got up as soon as he was seated and lit the fire. The smell of paraffin was strong on the cool air as the fire caught. There was a lot of smoke from wet twigs and branches, but the core would be wood from Kegan’s shed, and that would be dry and ready to burn.
Tana walked around the inside of the circle as the flames grew, touching each of her followers on the shoulder and kissing them on the lips. When she got to Jay, he thought she stayed a long time holding his face in her hands and staring into his eyes until he had to blink or drown. Then they sat in silence as the fire took hold, only the cracking of logs, and sparks leaping illuminated their faces.
Eventually, against all Jay’s hopes, Kegan drove up over the dunes and parked the Land Rover in the shade of gnarled and twisted trees. Scarlett ran across and helped bring the sacrifice out of the passenger seat. Jay stared as the guy staggered across the grass and sat, chuckling, on the rock. It was another homeless guy, but young this time. An alcoholic no doubt, like the other one. Was that supposed to make it better? Or just easier? The guy slid off the rock and leaned back against it, a can of lager dangling from his hand beneath a skinny roll-up held between two outstretched fingers. Idly, he picked up the smaller rock that nestled next to the one he was leaning against. The women tensed, but he dropped the rock back where it should have been and they went back to watching him. Jay didn’t like the light in their eyes.
Kegan brought across a crate of lager and passed bottles around, giving the sacrifice another one, and laughing as the guy downed it in three gulps and threw the bottle onto the fire.
‘Great, this, isn’t it?’ the sacrifice said, and groped Amber’s ample thigh with his spare hand.
Jay watched her recoil and smack the hand away. Only Kegan pretended friendship. Jay was glad about that. If they’d all cosied up to the poor bastard, it would have been more than he could stand. The sacrifice had to be less than human, didn’t it? Ready for death? Or what did that make them? He drank his lager quickly. Needed more, much more. With shaking fingers, he rolled another spliff and took a couple of draws deep into his lungs. Couldn’t the sacrifice see there was no talking, no party? That everyone was staring at him? Did he even have a clue about what was going to happen?
The fire finally surged up, as the dry, thicker logs began to burn. They drank more lager, ate crisps and pasties, smoked more dope. The sacrifice got more drunk. Tana stared at the guy, drinking him in with a strange, lop-sided smile on her face that chilled Jay more than all her histrionics.
The heart of the fire glowed yellow, then red, then blue, then finally white-gold. Tana stood and began her wailing to the gods, an ululation of sounds and groans that made Jay’s hair stand up from his scalp. She was great at this stuff. It was what had captured him in the first place – her knack for drama. Kegan filmed her from below, adding to the weirdness.
It was worse this time, far worse knowing what was to come. Jay watched the rapt faces of his friends as they cast their predatory eyes over the sacrifice.
When Kegan stood up, moved behind the sacrifice, and lifted the smaller rock, bringing it down two-handed on the top of the sacrifice’s head, Jay screamed along with the terrified man. The sacrifice bucked and goggled at them as he tried to stand up and face his attacker, but the alcohol had done its work and he could only stagger and swear wildly, unable to comprehend what he had walked into. Scarlett stuck out a leg and tr
ipped up the sacrifice and Kegan hit him again.
The sacrifice lay silent and bleeding as they pulled long fireproof gloves up to the tops of their arms, and donned masks to protect their faces. Jay stayed seated. They would have to do this one on their own.
Between them, Kegan and the girls hauled the sacrifice upright and pushed him into the red heart of the fire, deep into the hole that Jay had so carefully made.
For a few seconds little happened, then the sacrifice, not quite unconscious, woke up. He thrashed and yelled in earnest until he did finally die and the terrible noise stopped.
They stood in the face of the flames for a long time, and only Jay wept.
Tana stepped away from the fire at last and pocketed her phone. ‘We can thank the gods of fire tonight. We have made the second sacrifice. You have been cleansed, my loyal followers, and have no need to fear anyone. It’s all going according to plan. Let’s meet tomorrow as planned. Go now.’ She stepped up to Kegan, kissed him hard on the lips, and led him across to the Land Rover.
Jay buckled where he was standing and fell down onto the grassy sand, he didn’t think he had the strength to move. He clutched the phone in his pocket. Didn’t seem to be much point in ringing the police now. The guy was well dead.
He waited until they had all left then walked slowly back to the train station, careless of being seen, avoiding the others. Coward, he taunted himself. Coward. Tell the police, tell them everything. They will be okay with you, right? Yeah, right. His life would be over, then.
Death on the Coast Page 7
