What Lies Beneath (Rutland crime series Book 1)

by Adam Croft

  ‘So. The reverend. Is there a new line I’ve missed?’

  ‘Nope, same one, still valid. Perhaps even more so, after the chat with Alice and Hannah Clifton.’

  ‘What, an ex-rugby star turns psychopathic killer and fancies bumping off a local businessman because he’s not keen on going to church jumble sales?’

  ‘Local businessman and his lover’s husband,’ Caroline added. ‘His churchgoing, religious lover.’

  ‘Reading between the lines, I doubt if he was too bothered about that. They were separated. “Estranged” was the word, wasn’t it? And in any case, that might give Roger Clifton a reason to want to bump off Patrick Walsh, but probably not the other way round.’

  ‘Unless Alice Clifton thought she might be in line to inherit the family business. That’d give them a nice little payout, wouldn’t it? Perfect opportunity to set up a new life on their own.’

  Dexter grimaced. ‘I don’t see it. Look at the size of the gaff she’s got already. And he’s an ex-rugby international, so he’s not exactly short of a few bob either. I think murdering the ex and laying him out in the middle of Rutland Water for all to see would probably be a risk too far, especially when it ends up pointing so deliberately towards them. It’s almost too convenient.’

  ‘I’ll bear it in mind.’

  They arrived in Empingham a few minutes later, having skirted the North Shore along the A606, before turning into the village and pulling up outside the church.

  ‘You’d think he might’ve suggested a coffee shop or something,’ Caroline said.

  ‘What, in Empingham?’

  Caroline sighed. ‘Fair point. Shall we?’

  As soon as they stepped inside the church, they were greeted by a genial-looking man who introduced himself as the Reverend Peter Tottman.

  ‘Thanks for getting back to me so quickly,’ Caroline said. ‘I appreciate you must be very busy.’ In finding the Reverend’s contact number, she’d discovered he was not only the minister at Empingham, but also Oakham and Uppingham Methodist Churches.

  ‘I’m only here to help get a few things in order for the fete on Saturday, but I’m more than happy to help,’ the reverend said, smiling.

  ‘I realise this might be a bit uncomfortable or unconventional, but we’re currently investigating the murder of a man called Roger Clifton. Does the name ring any bells?’

  The look on Peter Tottman’s face told Caroline it did. ‘Alice’s ex-husband. Yes, I heard the news. Terrible.’

  ‘Well, husband,’ Caroline said. ‘They were still married.’

  ‘I see. And how can I help?’

  ‘We understand Roger wasn’t exactly a keen churchgoer. Is that right?’

  Peter Tottman smiled again. ‘I think we can safely say he didn’t share the same faith as his wife.’

  ‘And did that cause any problems among the congregation?’

  ‘Oh no,’ the Reverend said, with the slightest of laughs. ‘Not in the slightest. Don’t worry, we’re not under the impression that everyone either is or should be a practising Christian.’

  ‘And do you know of anyone who might’ve had a falling out of some sort with Roger?’

  ‘Not through the church, no. I understand he was in business. Construction. And he was active on the local council, of course. That’s a surefire way to pick up an odd sort of fan club, I’m sure. But I’m not aware of him falling out with anyone within the local church community. These are good people. Christians.’

  ‘What can you tell me about Alice Clifton? Is she a good person? A devout Christian?’

  ‘I’ve known Alice through the church for some time. And yes, she strikes me as a good person.’

  ‘And what about her relationship status? What’s your understanding of that?’

  ‘Sorry, I’m not quite sure what it is you’re insinuating.’

  ‘Are you aware of any — how can I put it — extra-marital exploits on Alice’s part?’

  ‘I think that’s a question you’d need to put to her, Detective Inspector. I’m not really in the habit of idle gossiping, particularly not about members of my congregation.’

  Dexter shuffled awkwardly.

  ‘I don’t think now’s the time to batten down the hatches,’ Caroline said. ‘This is a murder investigation.’

  ‘I understand that perfectly well.’

  ‘Then you can tell me what you know about Alice Clifton and Patrick Walsh, can’t you?’

  Peter Tottman looked at her for a few moments before speaking. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’

  14

  ‘Tell me that didn’t strike you as suspicious,’ Caroline said, as they got into the car and headed back to Oakham.

  ‘It wasn’t an ideal outcome,’ Dexter said, trying to remain diplomatic as always.

  ‘You know, I had half a mind to arrest him. I was this close. Then he’d have no choice but to talk. The Police and Criminal Evidence Act doesn’t protect church ministers from spreading social gossip, so far as I understand it.’

  ‘You wanted to arrest a minister because he didn’t want to get into rumours and hearsay over one of his parishioners?’

  ‘They aren’t rumours and hearsay. Alice Clifton’s own daughter told us that much. You saw his face when I mentioned Patrick Walsh’s name. There’s something very odd going on there.’

  ‘Or maybe it just wasn’t the most sensitive line of questioning. Emotions are running high. Religious communities can be quite tight-knit. Perhaps a gentler approach might have worked better.’

  Caroline sighed. ‘It’s a murder investigation, Dex. There’s nothing gentle about it.’

  Caroline had been looking forward to assembling the team for a briefing and update, but she’d barely been in the office thirty seconds when there was a knock at the door.

  With such a small police force, it wasn’t uncommon to see Chief Superintendent Derek Arnold roaming the corridors, but an unannounced visit was never usually good news.

  ‘Caroline, do you have a moment?’ he asked, gesturing for her to follow him. She said nothing, but headed after him in the direction of his office.

  Unlike most larger police forces, who tended to have a number of superior officers at each level, Rutland Police’s set-up was far more basic — ‘streamlined’, as the police press office liked to call it. Due to Rutland’s size, the Chief Superintendent was also the de facto Assistant and Deputy Chief Constable. Although his pay grade didn’t back that up, it was almost certain he’d be next in line to take the role of Chief Constable, as and when Jane Condry decided she’d had enough and wanted to vacate the top job.

  Derek Arnold’s office was no plusher than the other rooms in the oversized scout hut Rutland Police called home, but being called in to see a superior officer always gave their space an additional aura.

  ‘I just wanted to call you in to let you know I’ve received a complaint,’ Arnold said, getting straight to the point.

  ‘A complaint?’

  ‘Yes. From the Reverend Peter Tottman. I understand you went to see him this morning.’

  ‘We did, yes. In connection with Operation Forelock. We have reason to believe there might be a religious connection.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s a distinct possibility. But that isn’t the issue here. The complaint was with regards to your conduct and manner of questioning. The Reverend felt you’d been rude, disrespectful and brash.’

  Caroline swallowed hard. ‘I’m not sure I’d use any of those words to describe it, if I’m honest. I thought I was direct, polite and fair.’

  ‘He disagrees. In a place like Rutland, forging and maintaining strong links with the local community is vital. It’s a small place, Caroline. We can’t afford to go pissing people off.’

  ‘I understand that. But, with respect, this is a murder investigation. Hard questions need to be asked. I’ve got to say, I really didn’t expect him to immediately jump on the phone to you to complain about me asking question
s. Are you friends?’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  Caroline decided to try a different angle. ‘Is this an official verbal warning?’

  ‘Not this time, no.’

  ‘So it wasn’t an official complaint done through the official routes? Just a quick word in your ear?’

  Arnold leaned forward on his desk, his arms crossed.

  ‘Listen here. I don’t know what you’re trying to get at, but you need to stop it. I don’t know how you did things in the Met, and to be frank I really don’t care. You’re not in London now. This isn’t the Met. You’re in Rutland. We treat people like human beings here. If you want people to help you and provide you with information, you need to show them respect. Trying to bully and frighten people isn’t going to work, let me tell you that.’

  ‘I’m not trying to bully or frighten anyone,’ Caroline said, a nagging voice at the back of her head reminding her that Derek Arnold wasn’t the first person this week to pull her up on her London-centric attitude. ‘I’m just trying to get to bottom of what happened to Roger Clifton and make sure we do justice for him and his family. It’s what every victim deserves.’

  ‘I completely agree. We’re fighting the same corner here, Caroline. But you’re not going the right way about it. By rights, this is the sort of case we shouldn’t even be handling. This should’ve gone to EMSOU. Do you have any idea what sort of shit I’m having to put up with from them? They’re breathing down my neck like you wouldn’t believe. Don’t go giving me or them any reason to pull you off the case and hand it over, Caroline. Do you hear?’

  She swallowed hard again. ‘Yes, sir. I get it. Don’t worry.’

  As she left Derek Arnold’s office, Caroline bumped into Dexter as he left the toilet.

  ‘Alright?’ he said.

  ‘Yeah. Wonderful.’

  Caroline looked at him. The awkward expression on her colleague’s face told her all she needed to know. ‘You heard all that, didn’t you?’

  Dexter shrugged. ‘Thin walls in here. Whose bright idea was it to have the chief’s office backing onto the men’s bogs?’

  ‘You didn’t need the loo, did you?’

  He shrugged again. ‘Always good to keep regular. Don’t be too downhearted, yeah? He’s getting pressure from above him, and from the boys from EMSOU. And you know what people can be like. They’ll complain about anything. He’s only doing his job in passing it on.’

  ‘You do know that was a private meeting, don’t you? Confidential.’

  ‘Hey, I didn’t decide to build a police station out of cardboard. I can’t help it if the sound leaks through, can I? I just wanted you to know I’m behind you. I support you.’

  ‘Dex, I don’t need support. I need you to get on with your job. We’ve got a killer to find. I don’t need any more of this bullshit. Just focus on what you’re meant to do, alright?’

  15

  Caroline made her way back to the incident room, Dexter trailing behind.

  ‘Guv, we’ve had some preliminary post-mortem results on Roger Clifton,’ Aidan Chilcott said, almost as soon as she’d entered the office.

  ‘I hope it’s good news, Aidan,’ Caroline replied. ‘I’m not in the mood for another spanner in the works right now.’

  Aidan looked at her for a moment. ‘Can post-mortem results ever be good news?’ he asked.

  ‘Depends whose post-mortem it is. What have you got for me?’

  ‘No water in the lungs. Therefore, Roger Clifton didn’t drown. The ligature marks round the neck are suspected to have been caused by nylon rope. Blunt force trauma to the head, potentially some form of metal or non-fibrous material. They haven’t been able to pick up any wood splinters or rust or anything, so whatever it was, it was likely new. About an inch and a half in diameter, potentially rounded. I pushed for something a bit more specific and she said her best guess would be a crowbar or a lug wrench. Sort of thing most people would have in their car, anyway.’

  ‘We’re going with the car theory, then?’

  ‘It’s looking likely. Especially as the entry gate was broken. I can’t see any reason why someone would go to the effort of doing that, then walk the rest of the way.’

  ‘Okay. Even so, we’re looking for someone with a certain amount of strength. The body will’ve had to have been lifted, even if someone did get the car all the way up to the church. They had to get it from the boot of the car, over the edge and onto the rocks. Let’s face it — we’re probably looking at a man, and a pretty strong one at that. Resourceful, too. Came equipped with bolt cutters for the gate. Had a crowbar or a — what was it?’

  ‘Lug wrench.’

  ‘One of those, yeah. He obviously knew what he was doing. Maybe we’re looking for a mechanic of some sort. A builder? We know Arthur was heavily connected with the trades. It’s entirely possible he’s pissed off a builder at some time or another.’

  ‘Would need to be more than pissing them off to result in premeditated murder, surely?’

  ‘Maybe not a man of God after all,’ Dexter said, unable to help himself.

  ‘The killer went to a lot of effort to take a dead body there under cover of darkness and lay it out on the rocks in that specific place. I don’t think we can overlook that.’

  ‘No, but we shouldn’t be using it as our pivot point, either. It’s not the be-all-and-end-all, especially when there’s far more compelling evidence like the tampering with the gate, big clues as to the murder weapon, knowledge that the killer had to actually bring the body to the dump site.’

  ‘All things which heavily suggest the killer was very keen — almost desperate — to make sure the church was the dump site, Dex.’

  ‘So why there? It hasn’t been a church for fifty years. It’s hardly a religious building anymore. There are dozens of churches in Rutland the killer could’ve chosen. I can’t think of a single one that’s harder to reach than Normanton. If it was about religion, he’d have picked another church — an actual church.’

  ‘No. He specifically needed it to be this one.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know. That’s what we need to find out.’

  ‘Then perhaps we should concentrate on what we do know.’

  Caroline looked at Dexter, well aware that Sara Henshaw and Aidan Chilcott were shuffling awkwardly. ‘Detective Sergeant Antoine, can I talk to you outside for a moment please?’

  Without waiting for an answer, she walked out of the incident room and took a few steps further down the corridor. Dexter followed behind.

  ‘Can you remind me who’s in charge of this investigation, Detective Sergeant Antoine?’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘Correct. And before you say it, yes, I am aware we’re a team and that we all need to pull our weight and offer suggestions. I know you don’t think there’s a religious connection with Roger Clifton’s death. You’ve made that perfectly clear. But the location of the dump site is clearly a huge part of this, and all avenues will be investigated. And whilst I appreciate your enthusiasm in continually trying to hammer that home to me, I do not appreciate you doing so in front of the rest of the team. You’re a good copper, Dex, but you need to wind your neck in, alright? I do not need you undermining me in my incident room. Do you understand?’

  Dexter nodded, his teeth gritted hard. This time, he wasn’t going to follow his boss back into the incident room; he was going to get a strong coffee.

  16

  The rest of the day passed in a blur of admin and collating everything that was known so far with regards to Operation Forelock. Caroline didn’t mind, though. She was happy to be locked away on her own, unable to get pissed off or piss anyone else off.

  It seemed to be a common thread recently that people got pissed off when she was around. It wasn’t something that had ever bothered her too much. She just assumed that was how people were round here. But a few things Dexter had said recently had started to play on her mind. It wasn’t normal for her. She
didn’t like being irritable. She wasn’t interested in being a social animal, but at the same time she didn’t want to fall out with anyone unnecessarily — especially not her colleagues or local people she might need to rely on in the future.

  Towards the end of the day, she fired Mark a quick text then stepped out of her office and into the main incident room.

  ‘Dex, have you got a sec?’ she said, beckoning him towards her, trying hard to make sure her tone of voice implied he wasn’t in for another bollocking. She closed the door to give them some privacy in her office. ‘I just wanted to say sorry for the way I acted earlier. I didn’t mean to be so harsh. It’s great that you’re keen, and I really value your work and your… your acquaintanceship.’

  ‘My acquaintanceship?’

  ‘Look, I wondered if you and the others were planning on having a drink after work again tonight.’

  Dexter’s eyebrows flicked upwards. ‘Well, yeah. We kind of go most nights, to be honest. There’s always at least a couple of us there. I only ever have a half, though, because I’m driving.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m not trying to set up a drink-drive sting, Dex. I’m asking if I can come along and join you.’

  ‘Tonight?’

  ‘I mean, it doesn’t have to be tonight. It can be any night. But I’m free tonight if that works.’ On the plus side, it meant she wouldn’t have to go home and face Mark for an extra couple of hours. She could do with keeping her mind off the argument they’d had earlier.

  ‘Tonight works,’ Dexter said.

  Caroline smiled. ‘Good. Looking forward to it. Thanks.’

  An hour or so later, she was sitting at a table in the Wheatsheaf. She’d walked and driven past the pub hundreds of times, but had never set foot in it. It was a traditional town boozer — a selection of ales on handpumps, cider served from the cellar and signs advertising homemade pub food. She leaned over the bar to see which white wines were in the fridge — the thought of red still made her stomach turn — and was eyeing up the Pinot Grigio when Dexter whispered in her ear.