[Kitt Hartley 04] - Death Awaits in Durham

by Helen Cox

  Death Awaits in Durham

  Helen Cox

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Also by Helen Cox

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Acknowledgements

  First published in Great Britain in 2020 by

  Quercus Editions Ltd

  Carmelite House

  50 Victoria Embankment

  London EC4Y 0DZ

  An Hachette UK company

  Copyright © 2020 Helen Cox

  The moral right of Helen Cox to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  EBOOK ISBN 978 1 52941 035 8

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  www.quercusbooks.co.uk

  Also by Helen Cox

  Murder by the Minster

  A Body in the Bookshop

  Murder on the Moorland

  One

  A desperate scream echoed out over the scratchy laptop speakers. The shriek was abruptly muffled and then there was silence.

  Slowly, Grace looked over at Kitt. She was perched on the end of the bed in Grace’s dorm room, allocated by the administrative powers at Venerable Bede’s Vocational Academy in Durham. Secretly, Grace was revelling in the juxtaposition of the strait-laced Kitt and the kitsch-cool Powerpuff Girls duvet cover she’d brought up from Leeds. If she let on about it, however, Kitt would move seats and this somewhat comical view was the only thing distracting her from the morbid story of what happened to Jodie Perkins the year before. After just four weeks at the academy.

  ‘All right, that scream’s enough to give anyone nightmares. How did you find out about this?’ Kitt asked, frowning.

  ‘I’d have to be deaf and blind not to know owt about it. It’s been all the first years can talk about. They never caught her attacker so everyone’s wondering who’s next? If one of us is going to get picked off, disappear, just like she did.’

  Kitt stared for a moment at her ex-assistant who had worked with her at the Vale of York University library before starting on the library studies course here at Venerable Bede’s. ‘And this recording was just, lying around, I suppose?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ Grace said, tucking a brown curl behind her ear. ‘The academy has a student radio station. It was in their recording archive.’

  ‘Tell me you didn’t hack in,’ Kitt said, closing her eyes as if that might shield her from the inevitability of Grace’s answer.

  ‘Their password was VENERABLEBEDE2020. Come on, you can’t really classify that as hacking. I’ve seen pub Wi-Fi passwords harder to crack than that.’

  Kitt opened her eyes and gave a vague shake of her head. ‘Just so long as you know, I’m not paying your bail money when you get caught.’

  A look passed between the two women. They both knew that when Grace’s rambunctious streak at last put her behind bars Kitt would definitely be the person footing the bail charges. After all, it wasn’t as though Grace could call her parents, especially not after what had happened over the summer.

  ‘Play it again,’ Kitt said.

  Grace took a deep breath and prepared to listen to the somewhat unnerving audio clip once more. It wasn’t exactly what you would call Sunday night easy listening. Assuming Kitt had her reasons for asking for the encore, Grace obliged and clicked the mouse over the play button.

  ‘You’re listening to Castle Rock FM, a radio station for the students by the students, and I’m Randy Hobbs.’ The presenter’s voice was sickly smooth, almost cloying enough to make Grace cringe. She’d listened to this clip five times already and the DJ’s voice hadn’t got any less annoying for it. ‘Now, any first years out there might be familiar with our next caller, mechanics student Jodie Perkins. She got in touch with the show because she claims she’s uncovered a secret that’s going to rock the entire Venerable Bede’s community. Quite a big claim just four weeks into her study here. We’ve got her live on the line now. Hello, Jodie?’

  ‘Randy?’ Jodie part-screeched the DJ’s name and there was a rustling sound as though she was running and the phone was moving up and down as she did so.

  ‘Yes, Jodie, we can hear you. Everything all right at your end of the line? I understand you’ve got something to tell us about someone pretty important here at Venerable Bede’s.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Jodie. The rustling sound slowed and then stopped. Given how she was breathing into the receiver she seemed to be trying to catch her breath. ‘The way things are at Venerable Bede’s, this probably won’t be a surprise to some but I’ve been doing some digging and now I’ve got proof that . . . that . . . what? No . . . What are you doing here?’

  ‘Jodie, everything all right?’ Randy pushed.

  ‘No! It’s . . . Sssssss . . .’ was all Jodie managed to say, before there was a scuffling sound and then that all too familiar ear-splitting scream rattled out.

  There was a moment’s pause before Kitt spoke again.

  ‘What was that sound at the end there? She seemed to be hissing through her teeth.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Grace. ‘She seemed to be trying to say something. A name maybe?’

  ‘And the police never found Jodie, or a body?’

  ‘Nothing. The police could never be sure a murder had even taken place. No body. No forensic evidence of a struggle.’

  ‘What about witnesses?’ asked Kitt.

  ‘Nobody ever stepped forward. Randy Hobbs works the graveyard shift. This all took place in the early hours of the morning on a Wednesday. Not many people about at that time.’

  ‘But she was clearly talking to someone at the end of that clip, likely an assailant. That in itself is at least some evidence of a struggle.’

  ‘I don’t know all the ins and outs but we don’t hear the other person’s voice so we don’t know what was going on at her end of the phone. She screams out, but she might have done that as she was running away from whoever was there, and maybe she got away and disappeared
. We don’t know if whoever she were talking to got hold of her or did anything physical to her at all.’

  ‘We don’t know it, but her disappearance might suggest it,’ said Kitt. ‘It is tragic, Grace, especially given how young the lass was, but I’m not really sure what I can do to help at this stage.’

  Grace stared hard at Kitt. ‘Don’t give me that. You’re the most qualified person I know to sort this out.’

  ‘I wouldn’t let Mal hear you say that if I were you,’ Kitt said with a funny little smirk.

  ‘DI Halloran’s gang have already had their go at solving this one. It’s our turn now.’

  ‘Investigations don’t exactly work in turns. And I’m not sure referring to the police as “Halloran’s gang” is entirely appropriate either . . .’

  Grace folded her arms. ‘I thought you did that private-investigation qualification to help people?’

  ‘I did, but PIs help their clients. Paying clients.’

  ‘So, what? You won’t work this case because you can’t turn a profit?’

  Kitt let out a sigh almost too quiet to be heard. Almost. ‘It’s not about profits. It’s about costs. Forgive me for not wanting to throw money away on a Grace Edwards-coordinated goose chase. Setting up any kind of operation takes some funding. I’m just starting out and only have the basic apparatus. Speaking of which, is this why you asked me to bring my kit with me? I thought you just wanted to have a play with it.’

  ‘Well, nobody can judge a girl for wanting to have a go with a coffee cup holder that’s really a camera, but the opportunity to play with spy gear is a secondary consideration when a young girl is missing, possibly dead.’

  ‘It’s a terrible business, just terrible, but it would take a lot more than the resources I have to dig into a trail that went cold a year ago. In cases like these, where someone so young has gone missing, there’s a responsibility to be sensitive to those who lost the victim. You can’t go charging in and dredging up memories like that lightly.’

  ‘I’m not suggesting we do, but surely there’s somewhere we could start. The limited resources only make this case more of a creative challenge, don’t they? And anyroad, I thought you wanted to set up your own agency?’

  ‘I still do.’

  ‘Well, you’re never going to be able to go part time at the library and fund your book habit if you haven’t built a reputation as a hard-boiled detective, and the odds of you doing that by following a couple of cheating spouses around the centre of York are low.’

  ‘Oh really,’ said Kitt, with a knowing look. ‘And you have a better plan, I suppose?’

  ‘Solving a cold case like Jodie Perkins’ disappearance would definitely put you on the map.’

  Kitt’s nose crinkled; her expression dubious.

  ‘Don’t make me play you the YouTube video of Jodie’s parents appealing for information. It’s heartbreaking,’ said Grace. She kept to herself the fact that she’d cried over the footage for a good ten minutes after it had finished. ‘We know you’re out there somewhere, Jodie, love,’ Jodie’s mother had said. ‘We will not let you become just another lost girl who’s never found. We will never give up.’

  A parent appealing so lovingly to bring their daughter home to them would have drawn a tear or two on any ordinary day, but right now it hit a particularly raw nerve. It had been six weeks since she’d even spoken to her own mother on the phone. She’d tried to convince herself this was a good thing. That maybe some time apart would finally help her mother get used to the idea she was never going to show the level of obedience traditionally expected from a young woman of Indian heritage. All that said, she didn’t believe there was anyone out there who wouldn’t pine for family after watching the Perkins’ TV plea.

  Life in Durham had felt more insulated than expected. She was isolated from her friends back in York and Leeds, FaceTiming wasn’t quite the same as meeting down the pub or going out to some local dive for a dance, and she hadn’t really connected to anyone here yet. The fact that Durham was essentially its own little peninsula cut off by the River Wear didn’t help with the sense of separation. A TV news plea from parents trying to find their missing daughter had well and truly knocked down the last of Grace’s defences.

  ‘There’s no need for that,’ said Kitt, interrupting Grace’s musings. ‘I can only imagine what her parents went through, which is why I’m reluctant to open up old wounds. At any rate, haven’t you got enough going on without diving into a private investigation? Usually, you want in on these things because you’re low on excitement levels but you’ve just started a new course in a new institution in a new city. I can’t think that you’re short of things to do with your time.’

  ‘Yes, I’m busy enough with the academy but when I heard what happened to this lass, it . . . well, it preyed on me.’

  Kitt’s frown deepened.

  ‘I know I made a crack about everyone thinking they were going to be picked off next but the truth is, I’m genuinely worried that somebody took this girl and did something to her and that the same thing might happen to someone else. I know you’re saying we shouldn’t reopen old wounds, and I hear you. But when a parent doesn’t know what happened to their kid, do you really think a wound like that ever heals?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ Kitt admitted.

  ‘We don’t actually have to involve Jodie’s parents until we’re sure we’ve got something real to go on. If we do find something that offers them some closure, isn’t it worth having a go?’

  ‘Yes, you’re right, it is. And if it’s causing you genuine concern that also puts a different complexion on the situation.’

  ‘I’m sorry, did you just say I was right? Can I get that in writing?’

  ‘Oooh, give over!’ said Kitt. ‘Maybe I’m just appeasing you so you don’t run off and start your own investigation – which without my guidance you’d no doubt make a real hash of. Besides, it’s true that cheating spouse cases, though my bread and butter so far, can hardly be considered stimulating work.’

  ‘So, you’ll help?’

  ‘If it will bring you some peace of mind, I’ll look into it. But I can’t make any promises about solving it. Don’t get me wrong, I am skilled. And my encyclopaedic knowledge has served me well during similar investigations.’

  Grace tried not to smirk at Kitt’s bragging. She recognized the sight of her former boss getting into the spirit of an investigation and wasn’t going to do anything to derail her enthusiasm.

  ‘I don’t want to get your hopes up though. I’m only in town until Wednesday which gives me three short days before I’m due back at the library. I can continue to look into it over subsequent weeks but it’s likely that momentum will slow after that. Work tends to overtake.’

  ‘I’m sure three days is more than enough time to find a pertinent clue for Kitt Hartley, super-sleuth!’

  ‘If you call me that again I’m going home right now,’ Kitt said, though a small smile betrayed the fact that she might get used to the name given half a chance. ‘I had enough grief getting out here in the first place without you adding to it with silly nicknames.’

  ‘Oh yeah. You’re not supposed to take annual leave in October because it’s so busy. Did Michelle play war with you?’

  ‘Of course she did. But I tuned out most of it by replaying the 2006 Jane Eyre mini-series in my head. Took the edge off. Even if I had a month, though, you’ve got to understand that the trail’s gone cold now and . . . and . . . Grace!’

  ‘What?’ Grace said, but on seeing the direction in which Kitt was looking she had to put a hand over her mouth to stifle a chuckle.

  ‘Why have you got that silly picture of me on your bedside table?’ Kitt pointed over to a photo Grace had framed. She’d taken it yonks ago, not long after she’d started working as Kitt’s assistant. In the photograph, Kitt was biting into a large slice of her home-made ginger cake. Grace had placed the frame on her bedside table as a prank ahead of Kitt’s arrival and – truth be told – was
a little put out Kitt hadn’t noticed it sooner. She’d arrived some thirty minutes ago and Grace wasn’t a fan of delayed gratification.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re taking that tone for. I don’t get to see you every day now and I miss that. You should be flattered.’

  Kitt shot Grace a sharp look in response. But if Grace was really honest with herself, that wasn’t so much a lie as it was a mild embellishment. She had missed Kitt, a lot more than she was letting on. Excited as she was about her place on the library studies course here at Venerable Bede’s – at the same institution Kitt had taken Library Studies herself, no less – it had meant leaving behind the only family she had after her own flesh and blood had made it clear they wanted nothing more to do with her.

  ‘If you were hoping I’d be flattered, you should have chosen a more flattering photograph,’ said Kitt. ‘I’m starting to reconsider that recommendation letter I wrote to win you your place here, I can tell you.’

  Grace responded with a long, rich chuckle.

  ‘You can redeem yourself by telling me you at least have a starting point for us on this investigation.’

  Grace, still smiling, tapped the mouse a couple of times. ‘Where better to start than with the people who never stopped looking for her?’

  Grace watched as Kitt skimmed the webpage she’d brought up that appealed for information on Jodie’s disappearance. The page header was comprised of a large photograph of Jodie. Her big green eyes had seemed to plead with Grace the moment she saw them and Grace had made a silent promise that she would do everything in her power to find her. As a young woman suddenly in unfamiliar environs, fending for herself, Grace had developed a heightened awareness of the number of young girls who were lost and never found. Grace had no hope of finding her way anytime soon, but, with Kitt’s help, she believed she had the power to help find Jodie.

  ‘Who’s this guy?’ said Kitt. She was pointing at a picture of a man who looked about the same age as Grace. He had short black hair that was gelled back. Grace had viewed this website a number of times before Kitt arrived and on closer inspection she had noticed that his deep brown eyes had a naturally wounded look about them.