I turn the car back to the care home.
‘You ring Ray, tell him we saw her but she got away, and I’ll go and smooth things over with the manager,’ I say.
I leave Beth in the Range Rover and go back inside.
I flash my security badge again to the woman and ask her to take me into her office.
‘Mrs Carol,’ I say. ‘I do apologise for my brusque behaviour, but it was very important that I spoke to your employee Sally. You see she isn’t who she told you she was.’
I spin a story about Sally. That she’s a nurse we are pursuing who gets work in care homes and soon after there are suspicious deaths.
‘I wasn’t sure it was her, which is why I let her go. Unfortunately, it was our suspect… I think I need to see her references, and registered address.’
‘References?’ Mrs Carol dithers.
‘You didn’t just hire her? What about criminal background checks? They are required by law when working with vulnerable adults, aren’t they?’
Mrs Carol looks shamefaced. ‘She seemed such an honest girl and she was so good with the residents. The checks can take a while and so I took a chance and let her start…’
I smile. Then I tell her how this can be between us, as long as she doesn’t talk to anyone about my behaviour.
Mrs Carol and I part with a wary agreement in place.
When I come back outside, I find Beth drawing a breath through a vape.
‘I didn’t know you smoked,’ I said.
‘I don’t. Much. Ray gave me a bollocking. Please tell me the manager was able to give you something to help find Olive.’
‘I got her address, but we both know she won’t go back there.’
‘And now we know about her, she won’t try to see her mother again either,’ Beth says. ‘Fuck! Well, this has been a wasted trip.’
‘Not really,’ I say. ‘Something is needling me. Didn’t Sabrina say the best man’s name was Andrew?’
‘Yes, she did,’ Beth says.
‘She thought I was him.’
‘She’s all muddled up, Mike,’ Beth says.
‘But what if Albert’s best man was Andrew Beech? After all, he was my father. It’s not unreasonable to suppose I look like he did at my age,’ I say.
‘She could have meant anyone… Andrew is a fairly common name. But … the connection. Why was Georgia Stanners picked by the Network? We know these choices aren’t random. Which might mean that Albert Stanners knows more than he’s telling us,’ Beth says.
‘Yes. Beech gave him something he wanted, money, power – God knows what – then he took his daughter as payment,’ I say. ‘Redding doesn’t know that part though.’
‘How do you make that out?’ Beth asks. She puts the vape away in her pocket.
‘Because I think Redding would have killed him by now.’
‘If you’re right, this changes things,’ Beth says. ‘I’ll let Ray know we are staying another night. We had better go and interview Lord Stanners again, and this time we aren’t going to play nice.’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Neva
What’s taking so long? Neva wonders when she doesn’t hear from Michael all that day.
She spends the hours wandering around Kingston. She eats a burger from one of the café/restaurants on the bank of the Thames and buys some M&S ready meals that are quick and convenient to keep at the cabin. She’s vigilant as always, making sure she isn’t being followed anywhere, but she doubts that the Network have any idea where she is.
Back at the cabin she checks her phone for the hundredth time. There’s no text.
Then at 7 p.m. the phone rings.
‘Michael?’
‘I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. I’m in Scotland following up on a lead. We found Olive’s parents. I came here to see if she’d made contact and she had.’
He doesn’t tell her who Olive’s parents are, or where they are based. But he tells her almost everything else about his meeting with Olive.
‘You let her get away?’ Neva says. ‘Why?’
‘I’m not interested in punishing someone who had no say in what her life had become. When she broke away, she helped us,’ he says. ‘She’s the same as us. Broken and trying to find some happiness.’
‘But she may have known more,’ Neva says.
‘I left her my card. I’m hoping she will trust me and get in touch. From what she did say, your mother is someone important in the Network. Whoever she is she’s being protected by them,’ he says.
‘She gave me to them. Like Olive’s parents gave her up?’
Michael takes a breath on the other end of the phone: he hadn’t told her about Albert’s possible connection with the Network.
‘Or weren’t you going to share that you suspect him?’ Neva says.
‘I was, but not before I talk to him again,’ he says. ‘He may not be part of it. I didn’t sense any guile from him this morning. He was upset and shocked to learn that his child might be alive. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t lying. He could just be a good actor. After all, fooling people is a skill we were both taught, so why not Olive’s father too? Beth and I will get the truth out of him tomorrow. And if he knows anything about your parents, I’ll find out. I promise.’
‘Do you?’ she says her voice little more than a whisper.
‘I said I would help you find them, and I will. No one deserves payback more than the parent who willingly sells their own child,’ he says.
Neva’s mouth twitches and she finds herself smiling.
‘I love hearing your voice,’ she says.
‘I … needed to hear yours,’ he tells her.
She smiles again. She wonders what other lovers do in between seeing each other. Is this desire to have contact normal?
‘Are you still safe?’ he asks.
‘I am.’
‘Good.’
‘When are you seeing Olive’s father again?’ she asks.
‘Tomorrow morning. He refused to let us in today when we returned. My guess is he’s sending for his lawyer,’ he says.
‘You’ll share with me what you learn?’ she says.
‘I told you I would. I don’t lie, Neva,’ he answers.
‘Thank you,’ she says.
‘I’ll call you again tomorrow. I have to go now,’ he says.
Michael hangs up and Neva is left thinking about Olive. She is surprised that Michael let her go, despite his explanation.
Still needing contact with him, she begins to write a text. She wants to use words of romance and love, and even though she’s played the seductress many times without effort, the right words sound corny to her now as she types them. She deletes the text and puts the phone down. What can she tell him that deep down he doesn’t already know?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Michael
I put the phone down and hide it once more in my bag. I’m not angry with Neva for pressing me. It’s to be expected. Her entire life, like mine, has been based on other people’s betrayal. But I have to put her from my mind and keep focused so that I can do my job.
I meet Beth in the bar and we find a quiet corner, order food, and then huddle together to talk about Stanners.
‘His lawyer called and they’ve set up another meeting for 10 tomorrow morning. Do you think he knows we’re on to him?’ Beth asks, her voice dripping with irony.
‘Mmmm. Just a bit,’ I say, trying to feel more humour than I’m capable of.
Beth and I have a dilemma. We want to get to Stanners as soon as possible, but we don’t have enough for a warrant to force our way in there. Yet. If I was doing Stanners’s profile I’d want to look into his finances. I’d want to know his vices. Perhaps he’s a gambler and money is the key to Beech’s possible infection of his household.
‘If he did hand Georgia over to the Network,’ I say. ‘Then his wife never knew.’
‘Isn’t that always the case?’ says Beth. ‘With the worst betrayals? God. You don’t kn
ow this, but … I’m not that maternal. Even so, all of this makes me want to hug my boys. They’d freak out if I did though, because they are not used to me being soppy.’
I try not to give anything away with Beth’s reveal. I’d always thought her family came first, but after years of working with her, I’ve learnt more about her in the last twenty-four hours than I’d previously known.
The food arrives and we eat, sharing a bottle of Merlot. Then Beth excuses herself and goes to bed early.
I stay in the bar, nursing a whisky and mulling over all that has happened so far. The world is still pear-shaped. There’s something needling the back of my skull, and I’m sure I’m missing the point. But the problem isn’t presenting itself to me.
It’s hot inside and the bar is busy. I finish my drink, then stand.
I go outside to the front of the hotel. The night air is cool and it’s a relief after the claustrophobia of the bar.
I see a young couple standing by the road smoking. The man nods to me and I return the greeting, then I walk around the building to the back of the hotel and look over the hills as the sun sets. It’s a beautiful evening. In the far distance a waterfall cascades from the top of a mountainous ridge. It’s too far to hear the sound of the water, but the sight of the falls cheers me.
I don’t know for certain, but it feels like a lull before a coming storm.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Michael
We reach Hamlet’s Retreat by 9.30 the next morning. As we approach the gate, we find it already open. I drive the car to the visitors’ car park, and we follow the same route to the office we had previously taken.
As we draw near to the office door, we find it wide open.
‘I don’t like the look of this,’ I say.
I pull out my Glock and remove the safety. Beth retrieves her gun and we enter the house via the Estate Reception entrance. There’s a burst of adrenaline in my veins as we cross the threshold, this time not invited. I enjoy the rush and my senses go into hyperdrive.
We hurry down the corridor and into the hallway of the house. I head for the library, open the door, take a look inside and find it empty. Then we work our way through the house. The building is too quiet. There’s a study on the left as we pass the stairs and a huge drawing room on the right. There’s no sign or sound of movement even from the kitchen as we make our way down the main corridor to where it should be. We open the kitchen door and find the room devoid of people.
‘Staff quarters?’ Beth says indicating a sign that says ‘Staff Only’ on a door at the back of the kitchen. The door leads down a narrow corridor with rooms off it and appears to be another extension to the house, probably added to accommodate the live-in staff.
I open the first door and find it is a small suite – almost a studio apartment. I glance around the room. There’s a sofa in front of a television in one corner, a kitchenette in another, and a bed over to the far left. Another room on the right is a small bathroom with toilet, sink and shower. There’s someone sleeping in the bed, I’m wary as I walk over to see who it is. That’s when I find the butler. He’s been shot in the head twice. It’s a professional hit: he probably didn’t even hear his assassin enter.
Beth and I split up after that. She takes one side of the corridor to check the other rooms and I take the other. The other staff bedrooms tell a similar story. Everyone who works for Stanners has been killed in the night while they slept.
We sweep the house, looking for Stanners. Upstairs we walk through all of the ten bedrooms until we find his. There’s an open suitcase, half packed, on a super-king-sized four-poster bed. But Stanners himself is nowhere to be found.
When we are sure the house is clear, I phone Ray and tell him what we’ve found.
‘Sending a crew to you from Glasgow, they’ll be there within the hour,’ Ray says.
As Beth and I walk downstairs we come face to face with a small, balding man in a raincoat holding a briefcase.
‘I’m here to see Lord Stanners,’ he says.
‘Who are you?’ Beth asks.
‘Edwin Hamilton. I’m his attorney,’ he says.
‘I’m very sorry, but Stanners is missing. Please don’t touch anything,’ I tell him.
We take Hamilton into the Estate Office, which appears to have been unused since the night before. More staff arrive. A gardener comes to the office to clock in. I sit him down with Hamilton. Beth stays with them and I go to the main doors of the house and open them up so that our people can park right at the front, allowing them easier access to the bodies.
As promised the forensics team arrives and the dead are examined, photographed and bagged, then they are moved into the mortuary van that turns up a short time later.
By the afternoon the local police are also on hand to take care of the employees who’d turned up to start work.
‘I have other appointments,’ Hamilton said. ‘I really must go.’
‘You’re going nowhere,’ Beth says. ‘I suggest you ring your office and cancel all appointments. Then sit down and be quiet until we can interview you.’
Hamilton does as Beth instructs but he isn’t happy. After making the phone call to his office, he spends the rest of the time on his phone texting someone.
I leave Beth with them while I coordinate the work at the crime scene. Just after one, Ray arrives with MI5’s new pathologist and I meet Elliot Baker for the first time.
‘Stanners hasn’t been found,’ I say, ‘but I’m organising a search of the grounds just to be sure. That will take some time though: we’ve thirty acres to cover.’
‘Did you check the wine cellar?’ Elliot says.
‘I … don’t think there is a cellar … let alone a wine cellar,’ I say.
‘Sure there is,’ Elliot says. ‘All of these places have one. I’d look for concealed access. Probably from the library or even in the kitchen pantry.’
I’m not sure how to take Elliot Baker, but I know he’s probably right. There should be a cellar.
I take Ray to the Estate Office and he interviews Hamilton while Beth and I go in search of a possible wine cellar. We check the library first, examining the bookcases to see if any of them move, but they all appear to be firmly affixed to the walls.
Back in the kitchen I explore the pantry and we don’t find anything in there either.
‘What about there?’ says Beth.
I look over to a large meat locker. I look inside the huge refrigerator, exploring the back of it for good measure. There’s hunks of meat and a full cow hanging inside but other than that it all appears to be normal. When I come out into the kitchen again, I study the outside. I see the thing that is jarring most with Beth. There’s a cupboard at the side of the freezer and it doesn’t match the rest of the kitchen. It looks like a tall pantry storage cupboard. Though it’s wider and taller than your average cupboard.
I pull the cupboard door open to discover a full-sized cellar door behind it.
‘I wonder how he knew,’ I say.
‘Who?’ Beth says.
‘The pathologist, Baker. He suggested looking for this,’ I say.
Beth shrugs but she blushes a little too which I find interesting. Is there something between them?
‘Good old Elliot,’ she says.
I turn my attention back to the door. I try to open it but it’s locked.
‘Let’s get someone in here and break this down,’ Beth says.
‘Or maybe just pick the lock,’ I say.
Beth is silent as she watches me retrieve a lock-picking kit from my pocket. ‘You never know when you need one of these,’ I say.
It’s an old mortise lock and I’m out of practice, but I manage to get us inside the cellar a short time later.
As the door springs open, Beth puts a hand on my arm. I already have my Glock in my right hand.
‘What do you expect to find in there?’ Beth says.
‘Stanners hiding?’ I say.
Beth frowns at me. ‘Or d
ead…’
‘Or maybe our killer,’ I say. ‘Either way, let’s take no chances.’
There’s a light at the top of the stairs and I switch it on before we begin to move down the stone steps into the cellar. At the bottom a sensor light clicks on, illuminating the whole of a long corridor. We follow the strip lighting to a room at the end of the corridor. Inside we find Stanners’s expensive wine collection but nothing more.
‘Dead end,’ I say to Beth, my eyes roving over dusty bottles of vintage port, champagne and the best Malbecs and Shirazes.
‘This is it? For a house this size?’ Beth says.
I shrug.
As we turn to go, a waft of air drifts into the wine cellar. A strand of Beth’s hair moves in the breeze. I turn to look in the direction of the draught and notice another anomaly.
‘There,’ I say pointing to a ridge in the brickwork.
Behind a movable rack of wine bottles, we find a hidden doorway. There is no dust and no cobwebs. I pull the rack aside, and we push on the stone. It gives easily, opening up on well-oiled hinges. We find ourselves in a small room and beyond is a thick wooden door that is wide open and leads out, up a small stone flight of steps, into the grounds.
Beth and I go through the door and out into a walled garden with low box hedges tracing out the pattern of a fleur-de-lis. We follow the wall around to a metal gate which leads out into the rest of the grounds. The gate is open. All of which are signs of a hurried departure.
Beyond the wall there is a large pond, and beside it is a lumpen pile of clothes.
Unlike his employees, Stanners didn’t die quietly.
I find myself with Elliot Baker while he examines Stanners’s body.
‘Someone really hated this guy,’ Elliot says. ‘Look at the knife wounds here and here…’
Elliot concludes that Stanners had tried to defend himself but his killer knew what he or she was doing.
Kill or Die Page 15
