The Restless Dead

by Simon Beckett

  The coffee shop was actually called just that, the words capitalized in case anyone wasn’t sure. It was more like an old-fashioned tea room than a café, with cakes and sandwiches behind a glass counter and red-and-white checked cloths on the cramped tables. There was even a bell that tinkled merrily when I went inside.

  There was no Rachel, though. Or anyone else: I was the only customer. A tired-looking woman with a warm smile was serving behind the counter. I ordered a coffee and went to a table in the window. Even though I was feeling much better I was glad to sit down after the walk. Outside, the harbour didn’t look quite so grim now I couldn’t see the oil-stained estuary bed. Once upon a time I could imagine Cruckhaven might have been a nice place, before the estuary silted up and the water abandoned it.

  I tried not to glance at my watch as I waited, but as soon as I stopped making a conscious effort not to I did anyway. Rachel was ten minutes late. Not long, but I found myself worrying that she’d changed her mind, or even forgotten we were meeting. And then I looked up and saw her hurrying along the harbour front.

  She was carrying a shopping bag and looked distracted. Her expression cleared when she glanced through the window and saw me. The bell over the door chimed again as she came in.

  ‘Sorry I’m late,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Hi, Debbie, how’re you doing?’

  ‘Oh, surviving.’ The woman behind the counter seemed pleased to see her. ‘We’ve got some freshly baked orange and cinnamon muffins. Or there’s a coffee and walnut cake I made yesterday.’

  Rachel looked mock-pained. ‘You’re a bad influence, you know that? What are you having?’

  She looked at me expectantly as she sat down, but I didn’t have much of a sweet tooth. ‘I’ll stick with coffee, thanks.’

  ‘He’ll have the cake,’ Rachel told the woman with a grin. ‘I’ll have a muffin and a latte, please.’

  I raised my hands in surrender. ‘Coffee cake it is.’

  ‘You can’t let me eat alone.’ Rachel glanced across at the counter as the woman began making the latte, masking our conversation beneath a chug of steam. ‘I always try and stop off here when I come into town. Debbie lost her husband last year and she’s got two kids, so she needs all the support she can get. Plus everything’s homemade and she’s seriously good at cakes.’

  ‘It’s OK, I’m sold. Did you get everything you came for?’

  ‘Yeah, it was just a few things we were running short of. Someone finished off all our eggs and milk.’

  ‘Just as well I bought some,’ I said, lifting up my carrier bag.

  She laughed. ‘That’ll teach me. Seriously, you didn’t have to do that. I wanted an excuse to get away from the house for an hour or two. Doesn’t hurt to give everyone a bit of space sometimes.’

  It was the first real hint she’d given of the strain the family must be under, but it seemed more of a slip than an invitation. She quickly carried on.

  ‘So did you get the spark plugs?’

  ‘I did, yes. I had a fun encounter at the marine salvage yard as well.’

  Her face fell. ‘What happened?’

  I told her about trying to hire Coker to repair my car, and his subsequent antagonism. ‘There doesn’t seem to be any love lost between him and your brother-in-law.’

  ‘You could say that.’ Rachel stopped as the woman brought over the coffee and cake. She gave her a smile. ‘Thanks, Debbie. That looks evil.’

  She was right. Looking at the slab of cake on my plate I wondered if I’d be able to finish it. Rachel’s smile faded as the woman went back to the counter. With a sigh she turned to me.

  ‘I’d no idea you’d had a run-in with him or I’d have warned you to steer clear. He’s got sort of a vendetta against Andrew and Jamie. Well, all of us really. It’s a long story, but I didn’t think you’d get caught up in it.’

  ‘You don’t need to explain. I just hope I haven’t caused any trouble.’

  She smiled grimly as she stirred her coffee. ‘Believe me, when it comes to Darren Coker you can’t make things any worse.’

  I wasn’t so sure about that. ‘His daughter was there as well.’

  ‘Stacey?’ Rachel looked up, the coffee forgotten. ‘How do you know about her?’

  ‘I saw her at the house the other day. She recognized me and her father picked up on it.’

  ‘Oh, God, she’s been out to see Jamie again?’

  I had the feeling I was getting into murkier waters than I’d intended. ‘I didn’t say anything, and she denied it to Coker. But I don’t think he believed her.’

  Rachel closed her eyes and sighed. ‘No, he wouldn’t. You probably gathered that Jamie’s got a history with Stacey. They were only kids but things got messy and … well, it caused problems. Her father’s banned her from seeing him, and to be honest Jamie’s not interested any more anyway. He hasn’t been for a while, but Stacey’s not the sort to take no for an answer.’

  ‘I sort of guessed that.’

  That earned a smile, but it was strained. She prodded at the muffin with her fork. ‘I can’t blame her father for being protective. She’s his only daughter and Andrew isn’t exactly tactful when he loses his temper. But Coker’s gone way overboard, turning it into this ridiculous feud. It’s like the Montagues and Capulets, except it’s all one-sided and Stacey’s no Juliet.’

  She looked surprised when I gave a laugh.

  ‘I know, that sounds biased. But this happened before I came here, so it wasn’t anything to do with me. The first I knew about it was about a month after … after I arrived and I bumped into Coker in town. I’d no idea who he was but he launched into this rant, going on about how it served Andrew right that Emma had gone missing, calling her a “stuck-up bitch” and worse. I mean, who says something like that? And to someone he’s never even met before?’

  Her face had flushed, but I wasn’t sure if she was more upset or angry. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I told him to fuck off.’ She picked up her fork and stabbed it into the muffin. ‘Seemed to work.’

  I tried to imagine the slim woman in front of me facing down the loudmouth owner of the boat yard, and decided it wasn’t so difficult a stretch. ‘Did you tell the police?’

  ‘About that? No, but they’d questioned Coker when Emma disappeared, because of the trouble over his daughter and Jamie. More routine than anything else. He’s an arsehole, but that’s all.’ She tilted her chin at my plate, mouth quirking in a smile. ‘You should eat your cake.’

  I took the hint and let the subject drop. We kept the conversation lighter after that, avoiding anything personal. She told me how Cruckhaven used to be a thriving little harbour town, benefiting from the nearby oyster fishery and home to a small fleet of fishing boats. But dwindling fish stocks and the silting up of the estuary had changed all that.

  ‘I don’t think anybody realized the silt was such a problem at first,’ she said, hands cradling her coffee cup over the remains of the muffin. ‘Because it didn’t happen overnight people tended to ignore it. They were more concerned with the fishing drying up than the harbour, and by the time everyone woke up to what was going on it was too late.’

  ‘Can’t it still be dredged?’

  ‘It could, but it’s so bad now it’d be prohibitively expensive. Give it another decade and this whole area will be like the Backwaters, either mudflats or saltmarsh. Which is no bad thing from an environmental point of view, but it’s like a slow motion disaster for the people who live here. In some ways it’s worse than a flood. At least once a flood’s over people can rebuild, even after something like the big North Sea one. Have you heard about that?’

  I hadn’t. My grasp of history was sketchy at the best of times, and it seemed that every year brought depressing news of more communities hit by flooding. Though apparently that was nothing new.

  ‘It was a huge disaster in the 1950s,’ Rachel went on, setting down her cup. ‘There was a storm tide that swamped here and northern Europe. It killed hundreds of pe
ople on the east coast, and the south-east was really badly hit. Canvey Island was inundated, and Cruckhaven was nearly wiped out. The town survived that, but this is different. Without the harbour it’s hard to see how it’s ever going to recover.’

  ‘What about the marina development? Wouldn’t that turn things round?’ It was only after I’d said it that I realized anything connected with the Villiers family probably wasn’t the best topic of conversation.

  She gave a huff. ‘Don’t get me started. OK, if it was done properly you could probably limit the damage. I’m not a tree-hugger; I know there have to be compromises. But this scheme is basically about taking a wrecking ball to the whole area, burying the marshes under concrete and tarmac and turning the estuary into a glorified waterpark. And because they know people are desperate, they’re dangling the prospect of jobs and prosperity to try and bulldoze any objections. God, every time I hear the name Villiers I could …’

  She stopped herself, smiling self-consciously.

  ‘Well. Never mind. We should be getting back. I promised Fay I’d take her out later, and she doesn’t do waiting.’

  She smiled as she spoke, her fondness for Trask’s daughter obvious. I wondered if that was why she’d stayed with the family as long as she had. But I hadn’t realized it was so late either: the wall clock behind the counter showed we’d been sitting there for well over an hour. Reluctantly, I stood up as we prepared to go. I insisted on paying, complimenting the coffee shop owner on her cake, even though my teeth still felt coated with sugar.

  ‘What are your plans now? I suppose the police want you to take a look at the foot from yesterday?’ Rachel asked as we went back to the Land Rover. She pulled a face. ‘That sounded weird. And don’t worry, I was just asking. I really don’t want to hear any details.’

  ‘You’re safe enough. I won’t be working on it anyway.’

  She looked surprised. ‘How come? I thought you were an expert on that sort of thing.’

  ‘I think the police feel I’ve done enough.’

  ‘But if not for you they wouldn’t even have found it.’

  I shrugged, not wanting to get into it. ‘That’s how it goes sometimes.’

  ‘So you’re heading straight off back to London then?’

  ‘Soon as my car’s ready.’

  Rachel was quiet as we walked along the harbour front. I’d been surprised how easy talking to her was, and thought she felt the same way. Now a tension seemed to have come between us. She looked preoccupied as we reached the Land Rover. Taking out her keys, she unlocked it and then paused.

  ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but—’

  Her phone interrupted whatever she was going to say. Don’t take what the wrong way, I wondered uneasily? I tried to think if I’d done something else wrong as she answered her phone.

  ‘Hi, Andrew. I was just … No, why?’

  I saw the change come over her expression. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good.

  ‘When?’ She listened. ‘OK, I’m on my way.’

  ‘Everything all right?’ I asked as she thrust the phone in her pocket and threw the shopping bag into the back of the Land Rover.

  ‘We need to go.’

  She was already climbing in and starting the engine. I’d barely managed to get into the passenger side before she was turning the car round.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  Rachel’s face was pale and intent, but the grinding as she crashed the gears betrayed her emotion.

  ‘Fay’s missing.’

  13

  RACHEL DROVE IN silence most of the way back to Creek House. She couldn’t tell me much more, only that Trask’s daughter had walked off after an argument with her brother an hour before, and not been seen since. Neither had her dog.

  ‘Have you any idea where she might have gone?’ I asked.

  She slowed to take a narrow bend, then quickly accelerated again. We’d come a different way back, making better time now the tide was low enough to permit the old Defender to bump across still-flooded crossings. ‘Probably into the Backwaters. Apparently she got bored of waiting for me and wanted Jamie to go out in the boat with her. He was busy so she went off in a strop.’

  I could hear the self-recrimination in her voice, and felt some of my own. If I hadn’t asked Rachel for coffee she’d have been back home by now. And Jamie had probably been busy working on my car.

  ‘Has she done anything like this before?’

  ‘Once or twice. Andrew’s forbidden her to go off by herself, but it hasn’t always worked.’

  I felt a little less worried when I heard that. The young girl’s disappearance sounded more like a tantrum than anything more serious.

  We’d reached a causeway I recognized as the one where my car had been caught by the tide. It was still partially covered by water, visible only as a pale strip below the surface, but Rachel didn’t hesitate. Dropping to a low gear she drove out on to it, sending a surge of water up around the wheels. I stiffened reflexively, then relaxed. It obviously wasn’t the first time she’d done this, and with its drainpipe-like snorkel the old Land Rover made the crossing seem easy.

  Reaching the other bank, she accelerated away again. She drove straight past the boathouse, and in much less time than it had taken Trask to tow me we were at Creek House. Jamie was already running towards us as we pulled on to the gravelled parking area. My own car stood nearby, untended but with its bonnet still open. Rachel wrenched on the handbrake and jumped out.

  ‘Is she back yet?’

  ‘No.’ Trask’s son looked pale and worried. He barely spared me a glance. ‘Dad’s getting the boat out.’

  ‘What happened?’ Rachel asked as they headed back towards the house. Not knowing what else to do, I went as well.

  ‘Nothing, but you know Fay. She kicked off on one when I wouldn’t drop everything and take her out in the boat.’

  ‘Did you see her go?’

  ‘No, but not long after that Dad couldn’t find her. She wasn’t in the house and Cassie’s gone as well. They’re not around here, so she must have taken herself off into the Backwaters. God, she is such a spoiled little—’

  ‘That’s enough.’ Trask had appeared from around the side of the house as we emerged from the copse, coiling a nylon rope in his hands. ‘If you had more patience with her she might not keep acting like this.’

  ‘Not just me, is it?’ Jamie muttered under his breath. His father turned on him, jaw muscles clenched.

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  I was beginning to feel more like an intruder than ever. This was a family spat: I’d no business being there. I certainly wasn’t needed.

  Still, since I was there I could at least offer. ‘Can I help?’ I asked, more to break the tension than anything else.

  With a last hard look at his son, Trask turned to me. ‘No, it’s all right. You might as well—’

  We all heard the dog at the same time. There was a low whine from off down the path, and a moment later the girl’s pet appeared through the trees. Its coat was wet and muddy, as though it had been in the creek, and it was limping as it hobbled along the path. I looked past it, but there was no sign of Trask’s daughter. The animal whined again and as it drew closer I saw its fur was clogged with something darker than mud.

  ‘She’s bleeding!’ Rachel exclaimed, rushing over. ‘Oh, she’s cut all over!’

  The little mongrel yelped, wagging its tail as Rachel tried to examine it. It was shivering miserably, the bloody patches on its muddy coat all too visible now.

  ‘They look like bites. Something must have attacked her,’ Jamie said.

  ‘Can I see?’ I asked.

  He moved aside. The dog whimpered when I smoothed the thick fur back to get a better look at its wounds. They were mostly superficial, either ragged cuts or small punctures.

  ‘They aren’t bites,’ I said. Teeth or claws would have torn the flesh much more. I was more relieved that they weren’t clean
-edged enough to be from a knife. ‘They look more like tears. Like she’s been caught up on something.’

  ‘Like what?’ Jamie asked, as though it were my fault.

  I’d no answer. Trask had lost interest in the dog anyway. He strode into the copse in the direction the dog had come from and cupped his hands round his mouth.

  ‘Fay! Fay!’

  There was no answer. He stared at the empty landscape, then came back.

  ‘I’m going to take the boat up into the Backwaters. Jamie, you head along the creek bank towards the boathouse. Take your phone and call me the minute you find anything.’

  ‘What if there’s no—’

  ‘Just do it!’

  ‘What about me?’ Rachel asked as Jamie broke into a run.

  ‘You stay here. If Fay comes back let me know.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I’m not arguing.’

  He was already striding towards the corner of the house. I went after him. ‘I’ll go with you.’

  ‘I don’t need any help.’

  ‘You might if she’s hurt.’

  He glared at me, as though furious I’d voiced his fear. But Rachel had followed us, and broke in before he could respond.

  ‘He’s a doctor, Andrew. You saw Cassie.’

  Trask hesitated, then gave a terse nod. We’d reached the front of the house. This side was nearly all glass, huge windows facing directly out on to the creek. A floating jetty sat on top of the water, a small fibreglass boat with an outboard motor moored to it. The jetty swayed as Trask hurried out and climbed in.

  ‘Untie the line.’

  I cast off and got in, green water sloshing around the algae-coated bottom as the boat rocked. I sat in the bow as Trask started the outboard with a blat of blue exhaust. Then he was gunning the motor and taking us upstream.

  Looking back, I saw Rachel crouching down by the dog, staring after us.

  Trask didn’t speak as the boat roared up the creek, heading deeper into the Backwaters. The receding tide had exposed the drying banks on either side, but there was still enough water in the middle for the boat’s shallow draught.