“Is that why you’re supposed to be in Colchester?”
“No, that’s more my own curiosity than anything else.”
Theresa stared at me and I took the opportunity to appreciate the allure of her eyes all over again. “I was right. They are after the wrong man. At least, that’s what I think.”
I started. “Really? Why?”
She looked at the table and shook her head. “I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. The police have involved you; you’re perfectly entitled to an opinion.” The waiter arrived with our drinks at this point. I thanked him and signed for the bill. I had a sip of Drambuie while Theresa poured milk into her coffee. “Go on, tell me what you think.”
She watched me while she stirred the coffee, then made her decision. “Only if you keep this between the two of us.”
“If you like.”
She had a small sip of the drink. “When I heard about Clint Haywood I was immediately reminded of Peter Keogh, and how they both died in a similar way. If I hadn’t been so preoccupied with my grandfather’s murder, I’d have gone in to York – your – SIB to report it. When I returned to Harrogate after being interviewed for the first time, I heard about Bavister being based at Bassingbourn when Gordon was killed. I recognised his name from the rumours and because I knew Clint had been spending time with him, and then I thought about Peter. Peter was also in 1 YORKS, the same battalion as Bavister.”
“I know.”
“And? Don’t you think it’s relevant?”
Once again, I couldn’t see that it would matter if I confessed to Theresa. “I do. It’s why I’m going to Colchester.”
The news seemed to encourage her. “It occurred to me that there can’t be too many people who’ve been in all four camps at the time of the murders. Surely three out of four must be enough for them to go on – or are they that thick?”
“Like I said, they’re pretty keen on Vaughan at present, but I’m still looking at Bavister. Have you ever met him?”
“Once, briefly, at Hohne last year. I didn’t know anything about him then, but I took an instant dislike to him.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. I don’t imagine many people do take to him.”
“I don’t know where he was when Russell Marillier was murdered, but I know it wasn’t Winchester. So I wondered if perhaps the police had got it wrong again, and Russell wasn’t actually his first victim. I don’t know, it’s just a thought.” She shrugged and had another drink of her coffee.
“There is actually some contention over Marillier.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, the MO is different, though I’m not convinced myself. Have you ever heard of a lance corporal named Alistair Keenan?”
“No. Should I have?”
“No, it’s just something I’m looking into. But don’t worry about Bavister. I’m on it, even if the police aren’t.”
“I don’t care who finds the killer, I just want him found. It’s bad enough Coleman walking free, but not the murderer of those poor guys as well.”
“DS Warby contacted you?” I asked.
“No, why?”
“I thought that’s how you knew they’d released Coleman this afternoon.”
“I didn’t have to be told; I expected it. When I saw you sitting in your car, I knew I was right.”
My cheeks reddened. “Ah. I didn’t think you’d seen me. I’m sorry, I –”
Theresa beamed at me, and her tongue darted between her teeth. “Don’t apologise. I know you were worried about my safety, not stalking me.” I cleared my throat again, and had a large swallow of Drambuie. “It was very kind of you, and I appreciate your concern, even if I can look after myself.”
I took a risk and said: “If I was a stalker, you’d be my first choice, but you’re right, I was worried about Coleman coming back. I did what you asked and told Warby you were returning to Harrogate, but when I thought about you without police protection I decided to hang around. To be fair, they did send a patrol round to check on Coleman – or you – while you were at the gym.”
Theresa snorted. “That’s big of them. I bet they were thrilled when you said I was leaving King’s Lynn. No longer their problem.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Typical. They’re jobsworths, the lot of them.”
I didn’t share Theresa’s low opinion of all cops, knowing full well how hamstrung they were by politicians, the justice system, and the public. But I was surprised at Beverley’s oversight at not letting Theresa know Coleman had been released; I’d thought her more professional than that. “They should have let you know. Are you worried?”
“A little after you left, but I’ll keep my eyes open. Do you think he’ll follow me all the way to Harrogate?”
“I can’t say. I don’t know enough about him.”
“He’d better not because he’ll be on my turf then.” The change in her expression was dramatic, and I could see how much hatred she had for the man she believed to have killed her grandfather. “You could probably tell from the funeral that my parents and I aren’t close. My father was away a lot – not his fault, of course – and my mother and I never…bonded, I think the word is. She wasn’t close to her father either and I think she resented our relationship a little. My grandfather was like my mummy and daddy rolled into one. My parents didn’t want me to join the Army, he did. They never encouraged my interest in sport, he did…he was always so proud of me.” Theresa’s eyes watered again, and a single tear ran down her right cheek.
I offered her my hanky. “You’re lucky. One of my granddads died before I was born and the other when I was seven. I barely remember him and yet I so often wish I’d met him as an adult. He’d had an incredibly interesting life, which I only ever found out about second hand.”
Theresa dabbed her face, recovered her composure, and handed the hanky back. “Yes, I know. Some of my happiest memories are of staying with my grandfather in Essex. He had a lovely cottage on Chappel Hill, much nicer than the place in East Rudham. I spent so much of my time there before I joined up.” The pleasure of her recollection brought the smile back to her face. “I should go soon, but I’d like to see you again. Perhaps you’ll give me a call when you get back to York?”
“Yeah, definitely.”
“I’d like to hear more about Bavister. I’ll have another think about it myself, and perhaps ask around.”
“Is that why you want to see me?”
“What do you think?”
The tone of our conversation had altered completely in a matter of seconds. I hesitated. “Like most men, I’m not very good at reading women.”
“I think you’re being falsely modest now, but even if I’m wrong, don’t you remember what I said when I asked you what you’d heard about my reputation?”
I held her gaze. “I do.”
“Then that’s my answer.”
I nodded slowly. “I should be back by Monday.” She said nothing and I felt a pleasant tension building between us. It was going to be a long weekend, but I’d no doubt the wait would be worth it. “Would you like me to follow you until you’re safely out of town?”
“No, thanks, I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Will you at least give me a ring when you get back? For my sake, if not yours.”
“It’s a three and a half hour drive.”
“I know.”
She frowned, then said, “All right, I’ll send you a text. But that’s all, and I don’t want a reply.”
I knocked back the remains of my Drambuie. “You won’t get one. I hate texting.”
We both stood. She slipped into her jacket and I escorted her to the hotel reception. When we reached the front door, she stopped and turned to me. “Thank you for your help, and for tea. My treat next time. Perhaps I’ll cook it for you myself.”
“It was absolutely a pleasure.”
“Goodbye.” She
rose, kissed me on the lips quickly, and walked out into the night.
I didn’t reply, just watched those lovely Olympic legs carry her out of sight. When she was gone, I ordered another double Drambuie and took it up to my room. I tried to keep everything in perspective, but it was difficult. The situation was complex and I knew that the spectre of Adamson-Woods would inevitably cast a shadow over any future relationship with Theresa. Amid the intricacy and confusion, however, one thing was clear: I wanted to get to know her better in all sorts of ways, and I wasn’t going to let her paedophile grandfather or dodgy reputation bother me. I checked my phone, but there were no messages, not even from Fielding.
I finished my drink all too quickly and settled down with Emmanuel Levinas’ Ethics and Infinity. I knew I wouldn’t fall asleep until I received Theresa’s text. Even if I hadn’t had a personal interest, I’d still have been concerned about Coleman. If she didn’t let me know she was safe, I’d feel obliged to phone her, and I didn’t want to do that so soon after our meal together.
I needn’t have worried; her text came through at ten to one: home safe n sound. no sign of scumbag. x.
I smiled, switched off the light, and wondered if my dreams would betray me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I didn’t dream at all, but I did sleep through my alarm. I lost a quarter of an hour, which put me in the middle of a traffic snarl-up in Bury St Edmunds. I realised I’d have to reconsider my itinerary for the morning. I reached Sudbury, just over halfway between Bury and the Colne Valley, at half-nine, and pulled into a parking space near the railway station. I checked my phone and found I was about half an hour away from both Chalkney Wood and Colchester. I was working out which route to take to the wood, which was a stone’s throw from the village of White Colne, when I saw a familiar name, Chappel.
Adamson-Woods had retired to Chappel, about half a mile from Chalkney Wood, although I’d completely missed the connection when Fielding first mentioned it. If I was going to have a relationship with Theresa – and I very much hoped I was – then I wanted to know the truth about her grandfather, even if she didn’t. I also wanted to know who’d killed him. Perhaps finding out would help put his ghost to rest. I intended to return to Adamson-Woods as soon as I’d found out about Bavister and Keenan. I returned to my present predicament and decided to skip the crime scene today. Partly because I wanted to track down Webber ASAP, but mostly because I didn’t want to be late for Maikel and Siân. I’d inconvenienced them enough already this week, and might continue to if Webber proved hard to find. I put my phone back into the compartment between the seats, and set off for Colchester.
Like so many British Army camps, the garrison’s military origins are ancient. The Celts called the town Camulodunon – the fortress of Camulos, god of war – so it was already a garrison town by the time the Roman Legio XX built barracks and fortifications in 43 AD. The first British Army barracks were constructed at the end of the eighteenth century. The garrison accommodated one of the divisions of Kitchener’s New Army in the First World War, and both British and American servicemen in the Second. More than a hundred buildings were damaged or destroyed by the Luftwaffe in 1942.
The modern garrison is separated from Colchester by a dual carriageway, which allows it to retain a distinct identity to the south of the town centre. The shields of the various units of 16 Air Assault Brigade are displayed on the retaining wall on the south side of the road, and the garrison is home to three and a half thousand soldiers. Included in this number are the staff of the Military Corrective Training Centre – better known as the Glasshouse – and 37 Section SIB. When I’d joined 3 PARA in 2001, they’d just moved to Colchester from Aldershot, and Hyderabad Barracks had been my home for nearly six years.
Although I was a quarter of an hour early, Maikel and Siân were already waiting in the 3 PARA Warrant Officers’ and Sergeants’ Mess. They were sitting together at a table, deep in conversation and both smiling. There were only three other men in the mess hall, none of whom I knew. The change in Siân was astonishing. Two weeks of a better diet and five days of peace of mind had done wonders. She was still a long way from the woman who’d bowled me over four years ago, but she was also a long way from the wasted creature who’d knocked on my door.
Siân had begun to take a pride in her appearance again. She’d had her hair cut to shoulder-length, and the new style suited her well. I could already detect a faint sheen to her hair and some colour in her complexion. She’d applied a subtle, salmon shade of lipstick and although she still had dark circles under her eyes, they were smaller and lighter. She was still too skinny, but her long-sleeved pink top and chocolate trousers were a better fit and her figure was more catwalk than concentration camp. Even her nails looked like they were on the mend.
Siân saw me before Maikel. “Garth!” Her entire body seemed to erupt with joy and she jumped up, ran over, and threw herself at me.
It was very gratifying. “Hello!” I hugged her back and I didn’t feel as if I’d break her this time. Behind, I saw Maikel beaming.
Siân kissed me hard on the lips, and again there was a forcefulness which came as a pleasant surprise. “Thank you! Thank you so much for sorting it all out for me.”
“Forget it, I didn’t have anything better to do,” I replied, trying to play the whole thing down. “You look great, by the way. I almost didn’t recognise you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I shook Maikel’s hand. “How are you?”
“Fighting fit, just like that.”
“Glad to hear it.” We all sat down and I said to Siân, “Okay, now that you’re gorgeous again and clearly on the road to recovery, what happens next?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’d love to have more of your company, but I don’t want you to feel obliged to come back with me. I’ll take you somewhere else, if you prefer.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay with you until my next doctor’s appointment. That will also be six weeks since I last touched any…any coke. If the doctor thinks I’m better, then I want to go and visit Calum, and afterwards Mum and Dad. But only if you don’t mind having me for another three weeks. I like York; it’s like a place of…revival for me, as it goes. I could book into a hotel near –”
“Don’t be stupid,” I interrupted. “I meant what I said. It’s been great to have some company while I’ve been off work and I’d love to have you stay longer.” I was looking forward to taking her back to York with me, although I still had a nagging doubt about Bell.
“That’s cool. I’ll make myself more useful this time, and take you out instead of sitting around knitting. Once I’ve seen Calum and Mum and Dad, I reckon it’ll be time to either go back to Thame, or make a fresh start somewhere else. I love being close to London, but I’m also ready to move on. I don’t know yet.”
I wondered if Siân’s intention to visit her parents was a sign of Maikel’s influence, or part of the process of rebirth. Regardless, it appeared her mental recuperation was proceeding as well as her physical recovery. I was elated. “There’s no rush, you can stay as long as you like. In the meantime, there’s someone here I need to see before we go, so I’m not sure when I’ll be ready.”
She smiled. “That’s fine. I wanted to spend the afternoon in town. I’ve not had the chance to look around yet.”
“Who do you want?” asked Maikel.
“Staff Sergeant Webber, SIB.”
“You have his phone number?”
“Yeah, but I think it’ll be better if I just turn up at his quarter.”
“I’m going to go and get ready, so I’ll leave you lovely men for a while.” Siân stood and left us.
“She looks great,” I said to Maikel. “If there’s ever any way I can repay you, you know you just have to say the word.”
He waved a big, brown hand. “Is nothing. We had a good time at my uncle’s place. He liked her as well. Maybe, when she’s feelin
g better, I can ask her out?”
The idea caught me completely unawares, though it shouldn’t have. I suddenly wondered if Maikel was asking for my consent. I wasn’t sure, so I said, “I think that’s a great idea.”
“But I don’t want her to say yes because I looked after her while you sorted her ex out, and everything.”
“Don’t worry, she’s not like that. One of the things I admired about her in the old days was that she always did what she wanted. It could be a pain, but I knew that everything she did was because she wanted to do it, not because she felt she should, or felt she owed it to anyone. A bit like Th – anyway, she’ll probably turn you down.”
“You think?”
I grinned. “You’re not nearly as handsome as me, but I suppose you are an improvement on Bell.”
“What happened when you saw him?”
“He wasn’t very happy to see me, but he told all his gangster friends that he dumped her and doesn’t want to hear from her again. I didn’t argue. I don’t think we have to worry about him any more.” It wouldn’t be fair to tell Maikel about my doubts. If I’d taken them seriously myself, I’d never have invited Siân back to York.
“You did good.”
I hoped he was right. “I’m just glad it all worked out for Siân.” Having misled Maikel once by omission, I felt compelled to tell him about my romantic interlude. “I had dinner with Theresa Cowan last night. I’m going to see her again when I get back to York.”
Maikel’s face clouded with worry. “Ah, no mate.”
“Come on, it’s not that bad. Nothing happened, we just talked. But I like her and we get on well.”
“She’s not the one who killed those lads, then?”
“No.”
“Did you speak to your friend in the Mod Plod?”
“No, why?”
He pointed at me. “Because if you like this woman, I don’t want you turning around to me and saying it’s just me that says bad things about her. I think you should be careful and I want you to know I’m not talking bullshit. She did ask me to bed, and she did move on to the police lads.”
Bloody Reckoning Page 24
