The Other Child

by Charlotte Link

  ‘Very clever, Gwen,’ said Leslie. ‘You really thought it all through in advance.’

  ‘Yes, stupid, naive little Gwen. You all underestimated me. For thirty years. You should all have kept a sharper eye on me!’

  Leslie wondered what to say to that. Should she recognise their guilt, although it was no justification for Gwen’s actions? In any case, she had the feeling it would do no good. Gwen was not in her right mind. It was not a question of making amends and showing understanding. Gwen had edged herself into a dead end. In her skewed perspective there was only one way out, and it chilled Leslie.

  Gwen seemed to be having just the same thought. Pensively she said, ‘What am I to do with you now, Leslie? We can’t just stand here all night and chat. After all, we never had much to say to one another. Nor do we now.’

  I arranged to meet DI Almond,’ Leslie said. ‘I was supposed to be there hours ago. She’ll be surprised I didn’t come, and look for me.’

  Gwen smiled. It was a cruel smile that seemed to take pleasure in the idea of pain.

  ‘Then it’s time I came up with something for you,’ she replied.

  20

  Valerie Almond’s bad feeling was increasing with every minute of the evening. She had waited in the pizzeria for a long time, had tried repeatedly to reach Leslie on her mobile, but Leslie was unavailable. In the end she drove home, but she could not switch off. She called Fiona Barnes’s flat several times, but no one answered there either. By about half past nine she could bear it no longer. She jumped in her car and drove over to Prince of Wales Terrace. She thought it unlikely that Leslie would be there, for there was no reason for her not to answer the phone, but she just wanted to check.

  A simple reflex, she thought as she manoeuvred her car into a space. I feel helpless, so I’m just doing something. Because it’s better than sitting around.

  She got out. She felt anxious because she had not heard from Leslie, who had wanted to tell her something urgent to do with her grandmother’s murder. She had sounded nervous, and had said she would be at the pizzeria in twenty minutes’ time. She knew Scarborough well. She had grown up here. So Valerie could be sure she had not got lost. And if she had, why wouldn’t she have called?

  Something wasn’t right, thought Valerie.

  There was still no sign of Dave Tanner. And now Leslie seemed to have disappeared too.

  A man was standing in front of the entrance to the enormous building. Valerie wondered why he was hanging around here at night. Not that he looked like someone up to no good. Instead he looked rather bewildered.

  She stepped past him and rang the doorbell by Fiona Barnes’s name.

  ‘No one’s there,’ said the man behind her.

  Valerie turned around. ‘No? Did you also want to go to the late Mrs Barnes’s flat?’

  ‘I’ve rung three times, but …’ The man shrugged. Then he introduced himself. ‘Dr Stephen Cramer. I wanted to see my wife … my ex-wife. Leslie Cramer. But she doesn’t seem to be there. There’s no light on.’

  ‘Detective Inspector Valerie Almond,’ said Valerie, holding out her ID. He glanced at it briefly. ‘I wanted to see Mrs Cramer too.’

  He looked worried. ‘I looked around,’ he said. ‘Her car isn’t here.’

  ‘You don’t have a key to the flat, do you?’

  ‘No. I’m staying at the Crown Spa Hotel, a little down the road. I haven’t seen Leslie for two days now.’

  ‘Is that unusual?’

  He hesitated. ‘Well … she knows where to find me. Maybe she doesn’t see any need to. But where is she now? At this time of night?’

  Valerie had the impression that Leslie’s ex was still brooding on the divorce. No doubt he had spent the last two days in his hotel, hoping and waiting for his former wife to appear – something which she had obviously not considered doing for a minute. Now unable to bear it any longer, he had come to snoop, and the fact that she was not sitting at home like a good girl was the last straw for him.

  Poor boy, thought Valerie.

  He suddenly became aware that it was not usual to meet a senior police officer late at night outside his ex-wife’s door, and that the police officer had to discuss something with her that could not wait until the next day. ‘Has something happened?’ he asked in alarm.

  ‘Do you know where Dave Tanner is?’ asked Valerie.

  Stephen frowned. ‘Dave Tanner? Gwen Beckett’s fiance? No idea, why?’

  ‘I’d like to talk to him,’ replied Valerie vaguely.

  ‘And you think he might be here?’

  ‘No. No, I’m just concerned about Leslie. She called me about seven and wanted to meet, to tell me something important to do with her grandmother’s murder. We agreed to go to a pizzeria. But she didn’t come, nor call me, and I can’t reach her on her mobile. It just seemed strange, so I came here.’

  ‘That is rather odd,’ said Stephen. ‘Where was she calling from?’

  ‘She was in her car. Somewhere just before Staintondale. She said she was on the way from Robin Hood’s Bay. Any idea what she was doing there?’

  ‘No. Like I said … we haven’t spoken recently.’

  ‘Something stopped her coming,’ murmured Valerie.

  ‘Could she have gone to the Beckett farm? Since she was so near?’

  ‘Why should she? But I’ll give them a call. You don’t have the number, do you?’

  Stephen had it saved on his phone. But no one answered at the farm either.

  ‘That’s even stranger,’ said Stephen. ‘As far as I know, old Chad Beckett practically never leaves the house! Why isn’t he there? I wonder if …’ He stopped.

  ‘Yes?’ prodded Valerie.

  ‘Leslie hasn’t told you about the letters yet, has she? That Fiona Barnes wrote to Chad Beckett?’

  ‘No. What letters?’

  ‘Emails,’ said Stephen uneasily. ‘Gwen found them and gave them to the holiday guests, the couple, to read. They gave them to Leslie. I don’t know exactly what’s in them, but Leslie told me that Chad and Fiona got mixed up in something years ago … that there was a dark story in their lives which no one knows about. It unsettled Leslie.’

  Valerie stared at him and then gasped for breath. ‘I can’t believe it! I can’t! Why don’t I know about this?’

  Stephen looked even more nervous than before. ‘I tried to get Leslie to give you the papers. I was convinced that she shouldn’t keep what she had found to herself. But she … waited. Fiona, her grandmother … came out of it all in a rather bad light. She didn’t feel happy about letting other people read what she had read.’

  ‘Her grandmother was murdered, for God’s sake. Everything, absolutely everything to do with this old woman should have been told to me!’ shouted Valerie. ‘I can’t believe it! This may …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Chad Beckett may be in danger too. In any case, there seems to be some complicity, if I understand right.’ She got out her car key. ‘I’m driving to the Beckett farm now.’

  ‘Please, can I go with you?’ asked Stephen. She hesitated and he added, ‘Otherwise I’ll go in my car. You’ll have me there one way or another.’

  Valerie gave in. ‘OK. Get in.’ She was already running to her car.

  Stephen followed her.

  He saw that Valerie was on her radio as she jumped in.

  She was calling for back-up.

  21

  They saw Leslie’s car immediately. It was parked in the middle of the yard. There was a second car beside it. Valerie recognised it as the Brankleys’ car. The light was on in the house and the front door was open.

  Scarcely had Valerie stopped when Stephen sprang out of his seat, ready to rush in. The police officer held him back.

  ‘No. You wait here. Who knows what’s up. I’m going over to the house.’

  He obeyed, but once he saw that she had reached the front door, he followed.

  Valerie stepped into the bright hall. ‘Mr Beckett? Miss Beckett? Inspector
Almond here. Where are you?’

  She heard a male voice. ‘In the living room! Come quick!’

  She ran along the corridor. Reaching the living room door, she saw Chad Beckett lying on the floor. Colin Brankley was kneeling next to him, brushing Chad’s thin grey hair from his forehead again and again, and calling his name.

  ‘Chad! Wake up, Chad! What happened?’

  ‘Mr Brankley,’ said Valerie.

  He turned around. ‘We found him like this, Inspector. He was lying here. I think he’s been shot.’

  ‘Where were you in the last few hours?’ asked Valerie, kneeling down next to Chad. The waxen pallor of his face and his complete motionlessness were not good.

  ‘We were in Leeds. Jennifer suddenly wanted to go home this afternoon. But …’

  He could not say anything else. Stephen appeared and pushed him aside. ‘Let me see him, I’m a doctor.’

  He felt for a pulse.

  ‘You had no permission to just take off,’ said Valerie in a sharp tone.

  Stephen raised his head. ‘He’s dead,’ he said. ‘Bled to death. From a gunshot wound, it seems.’

  ‘Oh God,’ said Colin, shaken.

  ‘No one touch anything here from now on,’ said Valerie.

  Stephen stood up. Valerie saw that he looked desperate. ‘Where’s Leslie?’ he barked at Colin.

  ‘She’s not here. We just found Chad. No one else is here,’ replied Colin. Then he knotted his brow. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Stephen Cramer. Leslie’s ex. Leslie’s car is outside. She must be here somewhere.’

  ‘Where’s your wife, Mr Brankley?’ asked Valerie.

  Colin looked about, confused. ‘She was here a minute ago. Maybe she’s just looking around the house again.’

  ‘You two: stay here,’ Valerie ordered the men. She got out her gun and released the safety catch. ‘I’m going upstairs.’

  ‘No one is in. We were in every room,’ said Colin.

  ‘I’m just going to check for myself,’ replied Valerie.

  After she had gone, Colin and Stephen looked at each other over Chad’s body.

  ‘What’s happening?’ asked Stephen quietly. ‘Fiona was killed. Now Chad. God, who’s sick enough to do this?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Colin.

  ‘It’s about the story, isn’t it? With Fiona and Chad. The two of them did something damn stupid and got someone so mad with them that he’s knocked them both off.’

  ‘You know the story?’ asked Colin.

  Stephen shook his head. ‘I just know that the two have got into a real mess. That’s all Leslie told me.’

  Colin said nothing.

  Valerie came back to the living room. ‘No one there.’

  ‘But Jennifer must be somewhere!’ said Colin worriedly.

  He wanted to go out into the corridor, but Valerie held him back. ‘Mr Brankley, who was here when you and your wife left?’

  ‘Chad,’ said Colin. ‘And Gwen. And Dave Tanner.’

  Valerie inhaled sharply. ‘Tanner?’

  ‘He was waiting here for Gwen. He wanted to tell her that he was ending it. I thought that sensible of him. But that was why Jennifer wanted to come back as soon as we got to Leeds. She panicked when I told her what Tanner planned to do. I thought at first she was worried about Gwen, that Gwen would not bear the break-up. But then she said she was worried about Dave Tanner. I didn’t get that at all.’

  ‘Did she elaborate on that?’

  ‘No. I asked, but she said she’d tell me later. I’ve rarely seen her that worked up. Then we got here, found Chad dead – or as we hoped: badly wounded – and saw Leslie’s car. We searched all the rooms, but didn’t find anyone. Then you came …’ He looked around helplessly. ‘Where’s Jennifer?’

  ‘Where’s Leslie?’ asked Stephen.

  ‘Maybe Jennifer is outside, looking around the outbuildings,’ said Valerie. She tried to convey a calm exterior, but the situation seemed like a nightmare to her. A killer was running around; no one knew who it was; one man was lying dead on the floor; a further man and three women had disappeared; it was night, and neither literally nor figuratively could you see what the situation was. She prayed that back-up would come soon, and that she could keep the two men calm until then. They were very worried and wanted, as she could see, to rush off and look for their wives. Valerie was horrified by the idea that the two of them might disappear into the dark too.

  ‘Jennifer was here a minute ago,’ said Colin once more.

  ‘Stay with Chad,’ ordered Valerie again, making sure her tone was clear and decisive enough to keep the men obedient for a while at least. ‘I’m just going to have a look around.’

  ‘When are your people coming?’ Stephen wanted to know.

  ‘Any minute now,’ reassured Valerie.

  She knew that it would be more sensible to wait. It was also what guidelines recommended. It was highly risky to creep around out there on her own. But she knew that she could not expect Colin and Stephen to remain calm if the three of them just sat with Chad’s body in the room and waited. The two men would flip within minutes and go outside.

  ‘I’ll be right back,’ she said.

  22

  Jennifer ran through the night. She had gone for walks with Cal and Wotan so often late in the evening or early on dark mornings that her eyes worked quite well in the dark. Nevertheless, she was guessing, rather than seeing, her way. The overcast sky hiding the moon and stars did not make it easier for her. Out here in the open she was making quick progress. It would get more difficult on the other side of the hanging bridge. Without moonlight, it would be complete madness to go down into the gorge without a torch, but she decided not to think about it yet. She would decide what she should do when she got there.

  Her heart was pounding, her lungs hurt. She was fit, but she was not used to going this fast, uphill too. Strangely, she had no doubt that she was heading to the right place. She knew Gwen. Gwen had always been drawn by the bay.

  Gwendolyn Beckett.

  She felt the guilt weighing on her like a millstone. She would have burst into tears if she could have afforded to cry right then. If it turned out that Gwen had left this bloody trail behind her – killed Fiona and shot her father, and was the cause why Dave Tanner wasn’t to be seen on the farm, and why Leslie had also disappeared – then she, Jennifer, was to blame, at least partly.

  Why hadn’t she said anything?

  Not that she had suspected something the whole time. If that had been the case, then she would probably have gone to the police. It had seemed completely absurd to suspect Gwen. Would Gwen have gone and murdered an old woman she had known all her life, who had played a part in her upbringing, and who was the only person apart from her father whom she was close to?

  And then there were all the printouts which Gwen had given her at the start of her holidays. ‘Read it, Jennifer, please. There are things … I don’t know what to make of them … I don’t know what to do!’

  After Fiona’s murder Jennifer had clung, almost in relief, to the idea that the letters were the answer to the riddle. The other child, the one who had come to the farm during the war years. Fiona and Chad bore the guilt for his fate, if not directly, then at least through negligence.

  Gwen had also told her about Semira Newton. ‘I looked on the internet. Semira Newton found Brian Somerville years ago. On a godforsaken farm. Half dead. The farmer, a madman, caught her and attacked her, leaving her maimed for life.’

  And later Gwen added, ‘She’s still alive. That old woman. In Robin Hood’s Bay. I found her through the electoral roll. It must be her. I don’t expect there are too many Semira Newtons around here.’

  It all seemed so obvious. Naturally, Jennifer had brought up the police. Gwen had almost burst into tears. ‘That will just stir things up again. It’s almost forty years ago. No one remembers the story any more. Do you want to dish the dirt on Fiona? And my dad … he’s an old man, his leg is always causing him
trouble … can I do that to him?’

  Colin had also wanted to go to Valerie Almond immediately. He had held back because Jennifer had asked him to, for Gwen’s sake. She suspected that in his confusion he had told Leslie. Each of them had passed on the responsibility to another. None of them had done the right thing and told the police. Gwen’s feelings about her father and Fiona should not have been decisive in this situation.

  And the whole time Jennifer had been thinking: come on, it wasn’t Gwen. Gwen had nothing to do with it. I know that.

  But her doubts had never gone completely. The same doubts had led her, in the first terrible hours after they heard about the murder, to provide an alibi for Gwen.

  Better to make sure she’s safe, Jennifer had thought. After all, she had a motive, after what Fiona did earlier in the evening, and it was better to take precautions now.

  She stood still for a moment, bending over forwards, her hands at her sides where she felt the stitch.

  Breathe deeply, she told herself, otherwise you’ll collapse.

  She looked back at the farm, but could only see the dark night. Colin did not seem to have followed her. She had used the moment he was still kneeling in horror next to Chad to shout that she was going to look for bandages. Then she left the house as quietly and quickly as possible. He would never have let her go, or he would have wanted to come with her and demanded explanations. What could she say? That the intuitive fear that Gwen could be a killer, which had been lodged in her like a tiny poisonous sting from the beginning, had been growing larger and more painful over the last hours? And that in the minutes since their arrival at the farm the poison had spread throughout her whole body, leaving her breathless? That she was afraid of what might happen to Dave Tanner and Leslie Cramer and that she was not going to wait until the police came? Colin could tell them what was happening. He would fetch an ambulance for Chad. She was not needed now at the farmhouse.

  She ran on, gathering her last reserves.

  She knew she was the only one who had seen behind Gwen’s mask, practically from the first summer she and Colin had spent on the farm. She had not just seen the nice, friendly, rather homely and naive woman, who seemed to have settled into a life without any major ups and downs and was satisfied with what she had around her – the wonderful wide-open landscape, the sea in its ever-changing colours, the sky which often looked higher and wider than anywhere else, the wild cliffs and, somewhere between the rocks, the little bay which she liked to retreat to. And the father whom she loved and cared for. The rundown but comfortable house. A life far away from the world. What people looked for when the stress of their everyday lives, its worries, bustle and problems became too much. Gwen had made all that her own. Those who did not look closely could even envy her it.