A Watery Grave (Karen Cady Book 1)

by Penny Kline

  *

  Nothing ever turned out the way you expected. As she passed the row of shops at the top of Arkwright Way she could see Olive Pearce in the chemist’s, standing by a shelf of baby goods. Bath oil, talcum powder, drinking cups, bowls with bunnies round the edges. Karen stuffed the camera in her bag, then pulled open the door, marched up to the counter and asked for a packet of throat sweets.

  The bored-looking woman behind the counter pointed to a display on Karen’s left.

  ‘Oh. Right.’ She selected a packet of blackcurrant lozenges and felt in her pocket for some change.

  ‘Thought it was you.’ Olive Pearce was standing a few feet away. ‘Funny place to do your shopping isn’t it? Bit out of the way.’

  Karen smiled at her. ‘Oh, I often come this way. I’m doing a project on how small shops can compete with supermarkets. You know the kind of thing.’

  Mrs Pearce glanced at the shop-keeper. ‘We can help there, can’t we, Doreen? All the supermarkets are out of town these days. Need a car. Besides, it gives the baby some fresh air and what else would I do all day if I’d done my week’s shopping in one go?’

  Karen took a notebook from her bag and wrote down what Olive Pearce had just told her. ‘So you see shopping as quite enjoyable then, not just something you want to get done as quickly as possible?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’ The two women were smiling at each other, laughing at Karen, but she didn’t care. She was wondering how she could find a reason to walk down the road with Mrs Pearce and the baby.

  ‘How’s Justin?’ She bent down to look in the buggy.

  ‘Oh, you remember his name?’

  ‘Yes, I told you, it’s one of my favourites.’

  Olive Pearce paid for her packet of disposable nappies, then started moving towards the door. Karen held it open and gave her a hand with the buggy, lifting it down the steps to the pavement.

  ‘Thanks, love. Which way are you going?’

  Karen pointed in the direction of Mrs Pearce’s house.

  ‘You know who I am, don’t you? Oh, don’t bother pretending.’ Her voice was slightly menacing – or had Karen just imagined it? ‘Friend of Natalie’s were you? Can’t imagine it though. You don’t look her type.’

  It was no use making up some silly story. That would only make things worse.

  ‘I do know you’re Natalie Stevens’ mother-in-law. I didn’t realise when we first met. Then I remembered where she lived – and how her baby was about a year old and called Justin.’

  ‘Nineteen months now.’ Mrs Pearce adjusted the baby’s red woolly hat. ‘Liam and Natalie weren’t married, you know. People don’t bother these days, that’s why there’s so much trouble.’

  ‘Yes, I know what you mean.’ It was starting to rain, big warm drops that splashed on their heads. Karen expected Olive Pearce to pull the cover over Justin’s buggy but instead she just increased her pace.

  ‘Liam’s sprained his ankle,’ she said. ‘Did it playing football so now he’s a good excuse to sit in front of the telly all day being waited on hand and foot.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Who for? Me or Liam?’ She laughed, but without amusement.

  They had reached the house. Suddenly, to her surprise Mrs Pearce put a hand on Karen’s shoulder. ‘Here, you haven’t even got a proper coat. Come inside for a bit and I’ll show you the photos I’ve had taken of Justin. Well, someone has to care about the poor little mite. Had a special offer in that shop that sells cut-price clothes. Ever so good, he was, sat quite still, smiled at the lady, pictures came out a treat.’

  Karen held open the gate. ‘Sure you don’t mind? I am getting rather wet – and I’d love to see the pictures.’

  Inside, the house had a sharp lavender smell. Karen stood in the tiny entrance hall, then realised she was in the way of the buggy and stepped into a room so that Mrs Pearce could pass by.

  The room was empty. There was a large television at one end and two sofas placed side by side, making it look like the front row at the cinema. Karen had hoped to see Liam Pearce, reclining with his leg propped up on a stool, but there was no sign of him.

  Mrs Pearce appeared, carrying the baby, still wearing his zip-up suit. ‘Can you take him out of it, love? I told Liam if he didn’t get up he’d have to do without his tea. You’d think it’d be murder, lying in bed with a twisted ankle. He was out late last night – down at the Black Lion – showing off his walking stick.’

  When she left to go upstairs Karen expected the baby to let out a wail, but he just stood in front of her, staring at her with large round eyes.

  ‘Hello.’ What were you supposed to say to a nineteen-month-old child? Karen unzipped the suit and he held out his arms, then lifted one leg at a time. As soon as he was free he ran across the room and pulled something out of a plastic container piled high with toys.

  ‘Car.’ He handed her a toy bus.

  ‘Thanks. Yes. Car. Very good.’

  He made a noise which could have been brmm, brmm.

  ‘Brmm,’ said Karen hopefully, and he smiled, taking the bus from her hand and throwing it at the television screen.

  ‘No!’ It was an instant reaction, but when she saw his mouth turn down she regretted it immediately. ‘Justin? Look.’ She sat on the floor and started hammering a plastic toy with different shaped pegs stuck into holes.

  The baby laughed, then picked up a toy horse and threw it at her head.

  ‘Such a little show off.’ Olive Pearce was standing in the doorway. ‘Seen the photos have you?’

  ‘Oh.’ Karen looked round wildly. ‘Oh, they’re lovely.’ On the mantelpiece were two framed pictures of Justin, dressed in a yellow sweat shirt, with Mickey Mouse on the front, and matching yellow trousers. Karen picked them up, one at a time, to have a closer look. ‘Yes, they’re really good. I’ve always wondered how they persuade babies to keep still. I suppose they take masses of photos, then pick out the best.’

  ‘Interested in photography are you?’

  Karen thought she must have noticed the camera in her bag. ‘Yes, quite. I’m not very good.’

  Mrs Pearce patted the sofa. ‘Sit down then. Sky’s clearing but there’s no point in going out till the rain’s stopped.’ She looked tired. There were grey smudges under her eyes and every so often her eye-lids seemed to droop as though she was about to fall asleep.

  ‘He’s very good,’ said Karen, watching as Justin attempted to fit a brontosaurus into a toy petrol station.

  ‘Could be worse.’ Mrs Pearce took a tissue from her cardigan pocket and held it against her nose. ‘You got any brothers and sisters?’

  ‘No, I’m an only child.’

  She jerked her head in the direction of the baby. ‘Same as him. No uncles to mention neither. Liam’s brothers have moved up north. One’s in Manchester and the other’s somewhere near Stoke-on-Trent. Their father died a year or two back. He’d been an invalid for years. Bad heart.’

  Karen thought about Russell Donnelly’s father and wondered how many thousands of people were stuck at home, bored out of their skulls but too sick to go to work. But Russell’s father was old. Olive Pearce’s husband must only have been in his fifties or sixties.

  ‘So first you had to nurse your husband and now you’ve got the baby to care for,’ she said. ‘Isn’t it unfair the way it’s nearly always women who have to do the looking after?’

  She had said the right thing. Olive Pearce smiled at her and, for the first time, Karen could imagine how she might have been quite attractive when she was young. ‘Ah, well, some things never change. I’m too old for him really. When he starts school he’ll be ashamed of me. All his friends’ll have mothers in their twenties or early thirties and–’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure he won’t see it that way.’ Karen felt genuinely sorry for her. ‘These days lots of people wait until they’re older before they have children.’

  ‘More fool them.’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose it is better if you
have them when you’re young but if you’ve got a job and everything . . .’ She broke off. ‘Sorry, I don’t know much about it.’

  Mrs Pearce was looking through the window. The sun had come out. ‘I had a job,’ she said, ‘before the baby came along. That electronics place down Riverdale Road. They employ all women ’cos they’re better fitting the fiddly pieces together – and they don’t complain so much about the money being a rip-off. Still, I enjoyed the company.’ She stared at Karen. ‘You sure you didn’t know Natalie?’

  ‘No, no I didn’t.’

  ‘Know her sister perhaps.’

  Karen swallowed. ‘Not really. She works in the same place as my step-father.’

  Mrs Pearce nodded. ‘Everyone’s divorced these days. I’ll say that for Les, he never went with other women. Well, if he did he took good care not to be found out.’ She smiled to herself, remembering something from the past. ‘Well, I’d better start getting the tea.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Karen stood up, still with a toy bus in her hand. She offered it to the baby but he took no notice. ‘Thanks for letting me shelter,’ she said, ‘and showing me the photos.’

  Mrs Pearce shrugged. ‘You’re welcome. See you around I expect, working on your project.’

  ‘Sorry? Oh, my project. Yes, I expect so.’

  *

  It was only when she was half way home that something occurred to Karen. When Olive Pearce told the police Liam had been with her all evening on the night of the murder, it was just possible that she was the one who had needed an alibi, not the other way round. In spite of her grumbles it was clear she adored the baby.

  What if Mrs Stevens had been right and Natalie had been planning to move out and take Justin with her? Would a grandmother be prepared to kill if it was the only way to hang onto the child she had looked after ever since he was born? She could have slipped out of the house for an hour, then persuaded Liam it would be easier all round if the police thought the two of them had been home all evening. But how would she have lured Natalie to the reservoir?

  Karen liked Olive Pearce. It was hard to say why. Something to do with the way she spoke her mind instead of saying all the things you’re supposed to say to keep other people happy. Even so, as Karen’s father would certainly have pointed out, it was essential to forget how you felt about people. Just think about the circumstances of the murder. Opportunity and motive to kill.

  Olive Pearce was a big woman. Strong, in both senses of the word, and very determined. From what Karen had observed she was not the kind of person who would have allowed someone like Natalie Stevens to stand in her way.

  Chapter Ten

  Her mother had persuaded Karen that it would be nice if the two of them went for a walk by the river. That only meant one thing. She wanted to talk.

  Some boys were kicking at the nest the swans had built earlier in the year. Laughing and showing off. Karen glanced at her mother, who put out a restraining hand.

  ‘Leave them, love. Swans never use the same nest again.’

  ‘How d’you know?’

  ‘I just do.’ Her voice was soft, soothing, the way she had talked to Karen when she was little. ‘Have you seen the cygnets lately? They’re enormous.’

  ‘I know.’ Whatever her mother wanted to say she wished she would get it over with.

  The sun was reflecting in the huge glass window that made up the swimming pool side of the Sports Centre. Karen wondered if Russell was on duty, walking up and down in his green shorts, blowing his whistle when kids started fooling around on the diving boards.

  ‘Alex,’ said her mother. ‘You know how hard he tries. I was wondering if you were getting on any better.’

  Here we go. Karen turned away from the Sports Centre and concentrated on a moorhen that was limping towards the river. ‘Look, Mum, it really doesn’t matter what I think of Alex. It’s your life and in a few years’ time I’ll be gone.’

  Her mother sighed. ‘I do wish you wouldn’t talk like that.’

  ‘Yes, well I explained before. I don’t really feel anything about him, one way or the other.’

  ‘Apart from the fact that he was responsible for forcing your father out of the house. That’s what you said, Karen. Yes it is.’

  Karen kicked a stone into the water. ‘Well, if I did, I didn’t mean it. Look, if you want the truth I quite like the way things are now. I mean, I can see Dad whenever I want and as long as you’re happy . . . No, don’t interrupt. The point is if it’s just me and Alex we get on perfectly well.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘No, what I mean, it’s when all three of us are together. You and Alex keep trying so hard, as though you had to humour me all the time. I don’t want special treatment. I just want a normal life like anyone else.’ It was the longest speech she had ever made on that particular subject. Her mother was watching her with a puzzled expression. Then she smiled, almost like she used to in the old days – before Alex.

  ‘You’re right, Karen, absolutely right. I’ve been stupid, thinking about you but really thinking about myself and how–’

  ‘Forget it, Mum, OK?’

  ‘Yes, I will. Dad’s all right is he?’

  ‘What?’ So the talk about Alex had only been for starters. ‘Yes, he’s fine. His kitchen’s absolutely spotless.’

  ‘Good.’ But she didn’t sound that pleased. ‘He eats properly, I hope.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Look, it’s up to him how he lives. If you’re worried about him it’s a bit late now.’ She was being spiteful. Defending her father or just having a go? ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Dad’s OK. I expect he misses you but we don’t actually talk about that kind of stuff.’

  Three figures were approaching, two of them familiar. Simon was carrying what looked like bundles of metal rods and Glen looked as if he was chatting up a girl with long brown hair.

  Just for a moment Karen forgot about the girl. She was so surprised to see Glen and Simon together. Even though they were both in the same year at college they had never been close. They had nothing much in common, apart from the fact that she and Tessie were friends.

  ‘Acrobatic kite,’ said Glen. ‘Simon offered to give me a hand.’

  ‘How exciting.’ Karen’s mother inspected the bundle of rods. The girl with long hair stood a short distance away, winding a strand of hair round her finger.

  ‘Come with us if you like,’ said Glen. ‘All right, Karen? How’s the crime busting?’

  Simon was avoiding her eyes. He was upset, angry. Nothing had been resolved between them and she was the one who had ruined everything. What was he supposed to do? Wait until she felt like returning his phone call.

  ‘Sorry I haven’t rung back yet, Simon. I hadn’t forgotten, I’ve just been a bit busy lately.’

  He made no response, just started walking, then stopped, waiting for Glen to catch up.

  ‘Crime busting?’ said Karen’s mother when the others had gone out of ear shot. ‘What was Glen talking about?’

  ‘Oh, nothing, we were just talking about Natalie Stevens’ murder. Glen’s mother helps at some playgroup, up on the estate where Liam Pearce lives. You know – Natalie’s boyfriend. Glen says the police are certain Liam killed her but there’s not enough evidence to charge him and make it stick in court.’

  Her mother looked at her suspiciously. ‘Your father’s not involved with the case, is he?’

  ‘Dad? No, of course not. It’s nothing, just Glen trying to stir up trouble as usual.’

  *

  On her way to Cobb Street Karen thought she saw Walter Stevens. He had his back to her and he was walking past the pet shop in Wellington Road. When she called round to the house he had been civil enough but she had a feeling he had resented her visit and only put up with her to avoid an even worse row with his wife.

  He turned for a moment, peering down the street but she was certain he hadn’t seen her. Almost certain. As she watched he started down a narrow side road, then entered an ugly redbrick buil
ding that Karen had never noticed before. Approaching it on the other side, with her head turned towards the wall, she glanced at the building and saw that it had a poster on the wall. A poster in a heavy wooden frame with a picture of a boy and a girl walking through a field of flowers. Someone had ripped it so that one of the boy’s legs was missing. On the door to the building was a small inscription, written in the same lettering as the heading on the newsletter she had seen at the house in Burnham Close. The Society for Moral Awakening. And underneath a sign in the shape of a figure carrying a flaming torch.

  *

  Her father was out. When she rang the bell there was no reply and when she looked round the back of the building, where he usually parked his car, there was no trace of it.

  Saturday afternoon. Where would he be? He could have gone to the football, could be working overtime, might even be shopping. As she walked away from Cobb Street she felt depressed but could think of no real reason for it. Now she had told her mother to stop trying so hard things should be better at home. That left Simon. And the girl by the river. Karen had assumed she was with Glen, but it was possible she was one of Simon’s friends. She hadn’t looked his type, but what was his type? In any case since Karen was the one who had decided they should have a break she could hardly feel upset if she saw him with someone else. How did she feel about him? She was fond of him but there was something missing. Part of her, a part she often chose to deny, wanted someone less reliable, someone who made her feel a little anxious, uncertain. Someone like Glen?

  Walking fast, in the direction of the High Street, she pushed the worry about Simon out of her mind and concentrated on Walter Stevens. The redbrick building hadn’t looked like a church, but you couldn’t tell these days. A girl in her English class belonged to a church that had no buildings – people just met in each other’s houses.