Last Boat To Camden Town (The Christy Kennedy Mysteries Book 1)

by Paul Charles

  Ninety minutes and three cups of tea later, he spotted something that made him sit up.

  ‘A-ha!’ he exclaimed.

  He had been looking through the answers to the appeal on the radio and in the newspapers and one response caught his attention. The switchboard had received a telephone call from a Mr Peter Dyson. It seems that early on the morning in question – Tuesday 2nd February – Mr Dyson had spied a person pushing a wheelchair near Cumberland Basin. The duty-officer obviously didn’t feel this was of earth-shattering importance so no further questions had been asked.

  Dyson’s telephone number, thankfully, had been recorded and it was this very number that Kennedy now dialled.

  ‘Hello,’ the voice answered.

  ‘Good morning, this is Detective Inspector Christy Kennedy. I’m sorry to disturb you on a Sunday,’ Kennedy said as he announced himself.

  ‘Oh, that’s okay. I suppose you’re ringing about this Cumberland Basin affair.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Dyson – that’s correct. The report of your call caught my attention. Would you remember what time you spotted this person with the wheelchair?’ Kennedy inquired.

  ‘Yes, about 4.10 or 4.15am.’

  ‘That’s kind of early to be out and about isn’t it?’

  ‘Not for me, I work at the zoo across the road from Cumberland Basin. I was due to go on duty at four thirty that morning and I always like to get in a little early. You know what it’s like that time of the day, I like to lose the cobwebs from the brain before starting work. Anyway, I saw this guy – well, I didn’t actually see a face so I suppose it could have been a woman – anyway, man or woman, I saw someone pushing a person in a wheelchair. Again, regarding the person in the wheelchair, I couldn’t say whether it was a man or woman. As I was turning into the zoo, near the Board Walk staff entrance, I saw this person and the wheelchair leaving the Outer Circle and heading over the canal on St Mark’s bridge. That’s all I can remember. Sorry I can’t be more helpful.’

  ‘No, really, thanks. You’ve been helpful, very helpful. Would you mind just thinking back once more – did you see anything else that might be of interest?’

  ‘Well, no, not that I can remember.’ Dyson was quiet for a few seconds. ‘No, just the wheelchair.’

  ‘You didn’t see where they came from?’

  ‘No. They were crossing the bridge by the time I spotted them.’

  Kennedy thought about what else he could ask.

  ‘Okay. What about vehicles, transport. Was there…’

  ‘Of course – the Range Rover,’ Dyson interjected.

  ‘Range Rover?’ Kennedy repeated.

  ‘Yes, yes of course, I can see it now. There was a Range Rover parked on the Outer Circle, one wheel was on the pavement.’

  ‘Do you… would you remember the colour of the Range Rover, Mr Dyson?’

  ‘It was black, Inspector, a shining, black Range Rover.’

  ‘Great, great. You’ve been very helpful and, once again, sorry for disturbing your Sunday.’

  ‘No, it’s perfectly all right, Inspector. I’m glad I could help. It’s good to know that the police are working right through the weekend; makes you feel more secure.’

  Kennedy felt just a tiny bit guilty.

  Chapter Forty-One

  ‘Well, now…’ Kennedy said to the image of himself in the dressing-table mirror. ‘If one were allowed to put two and two together and get five, our Dr Burgess has now been placed at the scene of the crime. Twice, in fact, if you consider the visit to Feng Shang.’

  He sat with the notes on his lap, weighing it all up. Was he trapped by an illusion created by someone who wanted this murder pinned on Burgess?

  Kennedy was reluctant to go too far down the road with the theory that Burgess murdered Berry. There was no ignoring the fact that Burgess had a seemingly cast-iron alibi.

  With a fresh pot of tea reviving him, Kennedy set about re-examining the file containing the statements. He noticed something in Martin Shaw’s statement that he had not remembered Martin telling him at the time of questioning.

  The statement read:

  When we returned to Cumberland Basin for our first break, I decided to find out what – if anything – had been thrown into the canal earlier. I thought it may have been a rubbish bag and I was concerned that it might get caught up with our propeller – that could put us out of action for hours, if not the whole day. So, I kept pulling and pulling until it came out of the water. The only thing attached to the end of the rope was a large piece of canvas.

  This was definitely not what had made the splash, so I threw the canvas on the bank and fetched a pole and started poking around in the bottom of the canal.

  Kennedy wondered why Martin had not told him this at the time of questioning. This oversight was his main preoccupation when there was a polite tapping on the door.

  ‘Kennedy,’ began the voice, ‘have you done your homework yet? Are you coming out to play?’

  Kennedy smiled, replaced the files and zig-zagged through the furniture to the door.

  ‘Ah, well – that all depends on the game you want to play,’ he said as he opened the door. He was saddened to find ann rea in her street clothes.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  ‘So – did you get your story?

  They were on the outskirts of Grantchester, not a million miles from Cambridge. It hadn’t taken ann rea and Kennedy long to pack up and pay their bills, separately, of course. Now they were enjoying their journey along the B-roads in the heart of the English countryside. They were looking for somewhere ‘quaint’ for a Sunday pub lunch and Grantchester looked like it might be just the place.

  ‘I think I got enough for a decent article, but the sad thing is that most of the locals seem to prefer this time of the year, when the town is their own. Then there’s little or no interference from tourists or outsiders,’ ann rea answered.

  ‘I can see that,’ Kennedy said. ‘Unless, of course, they managed to be in a breakfast-room this morning.’

  ‘Kennedy, believe me – it was worth it just to see the look on your face… it was good to see… to see the human side of the great policeman,’ she laughed.

  Was this more encouragement or was he once again totally misreading the situation? Kennedy wondered if ann rea was considering this one of those famous platonic relationships, a relationship that a good – or bad – fifty per cent of the partnership hated.

  ‘Ah, this looks good,’ she announced as they drove into Grantchester. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Looks perfect to me,’ he replied.

  ‘What about that over there?’ She nodded in the direction of a very quaint, typically English pub, guarded by two brightly painted stone lions. ‘The Red Lion – will we try it?’

  ‘I’m game.’

  ‘I know that, Kennedy, but let’s eat,’ she laughed.

  They found a parking space and entered the Red Lion where both enjoyed a traditional lunch in a not-too-crowded dining-room. Kennedy had a little wine, ann rea just a glass – after all, she was driving and she certainly didn’t want to be nicked by a policeman.

  ‘Let’s take a stroll along the river,’ she suggested. ‘I’d like to walk off some of the food before getting back into the driving-seat again.’

  ‘Good idea,’ answered Kennedy, who happily would have walked back to London – any excuse to be in this fascinating woman’s company for as long as possible. ‘But you’d better wrap up well. I don’t want your memory of this weekend to be one of you catching a cold.’

  ‘Okay. I’ve a scarf in the car, I’ll fetch that,’ she replied.

  The walkway along the riverside was very agreeable, though they had to cross a field to get to it, side-stepping signs that the cows had also eaten an enjoyable lunch. From spring to autumn, the area they walked through was packed with day-trippers, but today they shared the river with nothing more than the occasional boat going this way or that.

  It was cold but the sky was unclouded and
a flawless blue. They stopped at a lock-gate and watched for several minutes as the boats worked the locks, dropping down in level.

  A beautiful new-looking cruiser stopped directly in front of them. The owner took his place at the top of the lock, tied his boat to the bank, leaving enough slack in the rope for the drop. He also left a long length of rope dangling from the bank to the boat. When the drop was completed, Kennedy tried to figure out how the sole occupant was going to get back up on to the now-high bank to untie his boat before moving on.

  Kennedy was wondering whether or not he should offer to untie the boat, when the owner, on seeing that the lock-gates were now fully opened, pulled the unattached end of the rope. To Kennedy’s amazement, the knot untied itself and the rope fell on to the deck of the boat which then continued its journey down the river.

  ‘Amazing,’ said Kennedy. ‘And he used no mirrors, either.’

  They both laughed.

  ‘So Kennedy, how did you get on with the Berry case this morning?’

  ‘Well, I made a bit of progress.’ Kennedy told ann rea about his conversation with the zoo worker.

  ‘Hmm, and are you now convinced that Burgess is the murderer?’

  Kennedy hesitated for a moment. ‘It’s illogical I know, but yes. I just have to work out how he did it and then, more importantly, why he did it. What his motive was.’

  ‘Have you any ideas?’ she inquired, as she slipped her arm through his. ‘Any ideas at all?’

  ‘No. Not unless his wife is lying and she really was having a scene with Berry. You know, a clever way to hide something is to put up a smokescreen, drawing attention away from what you’re hiding.’

  ‘Not possible, Kennedy. I told you – she and her partner are very, very happily in love. And what about his alibi? You told me that Burgess was on duty at the time of the murder.’

  ‘Yea, I know – I’m looking at that. I’m trying to see things from a totally different angle,’ he replied.

  They continued to walk in silence. He tightened his link arm ever so slightly to turn and move her closer to him, and then in his soft voice said, ‘What about you ann rea? How long have you been alone?’

  ‘You’re never alone with a mortgage, Kennedy,’ she answered flippantly.

  ‘Ah, come on – be serious.’

  Kennedy thought that ann rea was either considering her answer or that she wasn’t going to answer at all. But she did.

  ‘Well, I don’t like to talk about it, but I suppose I should. Yes, Kennedy, I was happily in love – very happily, indeed. I was all set to… to get married and live happily ever after and then he met someone else. I can’t even say he was a git about it. He was… he was a “good guy”, as they say in the movies. He found someone else. I was so in love with him, I missed all the signs. But they were all there for me. He suddenly because not as interested, not as available. I even missed the major signal, “Let’s have a trial separation.” Lethal, fatal, final. He was trying to break it to me easily and I wasn’t picking up on it and then he came right out… right out and said it. He told me he’d found someone else. He’d fallen in love with someone else.’

  ann rea paused for a while. Kenned said nothing. They walked in silence for a few moments.

  ‘It destroyed me. I fell to pieces. You know, the usual story. I was very lucky; my landlord and landlady, Daniel and Lila Elliot, looked after me well at that point, treated me like a daughter. Eventually, I started to pick up the bits of my life again. I convinced myself that I had to protect myself so I started to work seriously at what I was doing. I set about trying to become a great journalist and I devoted myself to that. Yes, Kennedy, before you ask, there have been other men in my life but they haven’t meant anything, availability is not an attraction for me. Love is not where you find it. Love is where it’s hiding. You know, when you’ve never, ever going to be in love again and that hurts. That’s what hurts the most.’

  They stopped walking and she turned to face him. Keeping her linked arm in place, she slipped her other arm around his waist. Kennedy noticed a few tears had appeared in her eyes.

  This was the first time that he had seen ann rea less than happy. He was annoyed at himself for asking the question that had produced this mood. He didn’t know what to do, he felt helpless in this situation. It’s easy to say meaningful, throw-away words when you didn’t care, but Kennedy cared.

  ‘Do you want to tell me about him?’ was all Kennedy could say. He had a million other questions that he wanted to ask but that was the only one that would come out.

  ‘Ah, another time perhaps, Kennedy.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…’

  ‘Don’t – no, Kennedy… it’s okay. Honest, I was long overdue in telling someone about it. I’m glad you helped me get it out. After all,’ she said, regaining her composure, ‘what else are friends for?’

  ‘I didn’t think something so long ago could hurt so much,’ he said.

  ann rea gently broke free of him and took his hand. ‘We’d better be heading back.’

  They made their way back to the car. The moment had passed and one of the few things Kennedy had learned in his life was not to go chasing lost moments – there were too many of them.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  The drive back to London was uneventful but friendly and soon ann rea was her usual self again. When they arrived outside Kenney’s house, she switched off the car and they sat in silence for a few minutes.

  ‘Okay, Kennedy, I need one cup – just one cup, mind you – of your special tea. Then I’m going home. I’d like to do some work on the article tonight.’

  ‘Great, no problem – no problem at all. It was fun and I had a great time. I even made some progress on my case. And if you want, I’ll brew you a cup of tea that’ll keep you on your article all night.’

  ‘No alcohol, mind you.’

  ‘In tea? Never, please.’

  She felt comfortable in his house now and she wandered around his ground floor as he prepared his special brew. She asked him questions from the other rooms as she came across various objects and gadgets of interest.

  She returned to the kitchen and gratefully accepted Kennedy’s offering. ‘Grannie! You weren’t joking. Kennedy, what’s in the tea?’ ann rea exclaimed after her first mouthful.

  ‘Ah, that would be telling, wouldn’t it? And then you’d have no need to come back, would you?’

  ann rea smiled at him. He took her free hand in his, he was becoming more confident now with body contact after their afternoon together.

  ‘ann rea, is it okay if I kiss you?’ Kennedy asked nervously.

  Kennedy always felt awkward at this stage. You know each other quite well – you’ve been for dinner, lunch, movies, theatre, concert, a drink, whatever. But you want to move the relationship on to another level – the next level. At the same time, you care about the person, so you don’t want to use your friendship or closeness to compromise them.

  Kennedy believed in confronting the situation head on, as it were. None of the clumsiness of trying to slide up to her on the sofa, manoeuvring his arm around her shoulders in the hope that she wouldn’t notice until it was in position. Then trying to ensure that your mouths are, at the precise moment, within homing distance of each other. Nothing can cure the awfulness you feel if she strategically misses your mouth while saying, Great painting, or What’s that book? or You like hideous green things as well? How wonderful, so do I. Anything to start a conversation. Anything rather than taking that step.

  Now he could wait no longer. Kennedy was prepared to risk rejection.

  ‘ann rea, is it okay if I kiss you?’ The words echoed around his brain over and over again.

  ‘Yes, Kennedy, yes. It was okay to kiss me ages ago. I was beginning to wonder about you.’

  ‘But I thought… I thought the time wasn’t right. I didn’t want to ruin anything by rushing it,’ he declared, painfully aware of his clumsiness.

  ‘The time has long
been right for kissing, Kennedy… but not for making love. Nowadays, too many people think that a kiss is an invitation and an acceptance to the epilogue. I prefer to work my way through the book chapter by chapter.’

  ‘I love kissing…’ was all Kennedy could think to say.

  ‘So, are we going to get down to it or are we going to discuss the pros and cons of kissing all night? I was hoping…’

  Kennedy pulled her gently towards him. ann rea’s eyes had such a wonderful way of smiling. That was the last thing he saw, her smiling eyes, as he closed his a few seconds before their lips met.

  ann rea’s lips were so soft – fluid, silky, delicate, gentle. Her mouth was inviting – pleasing, sweet, sensitive. Her tongue caressed his, coaxing before venturing into his mouth. Her tongue fondled his teeth.

  Blood was exploding in distant parts of his body. He was breathless but desperate not to break off this kiss simply to catch some air. His head was dizzy. He opened his eyes for a second to look at her face, or the part of her face he could see – her closed eyelids.

  He desperately wanted to kiss her eyelids, perhaps he’d do so later. This current exploration was far too pleasurable to interrupt. He played with her tongue, catching it delicately between his teeth and then caressing if softly with his own tongue.

  Now he could feel the fullness of her body pressed against his. When he felt he may have been a little forceful with his kissing, he reduced the pressure so that their lips were gently petting – like feathers touching airily as they fall in the breeze.

  Kennedy felt like he was falling. ann rea was building up the pressure again, each time exciting him with something anew. This was a pure kiss, lacking in sexual hunger.

  It was the closest Kennedy had been to ann rea and she smelt beautiful, fresh and alive. She’d been out all day, eaten a meal, drank tea and wine but her mouth tasted mint-fresh. For one split second, Kennedy wondered what his own mouth tasted like, but only for one split second.