‘Nosy, is she?’
‘No more than most,’ Liz said, ‘but Tony likes to keep things from her. The trouble is, he’s always too lazy to fetch the key so he ends up shoving stuff in the unlocked side. It’s just crap - bank statements and stuff like that. I’ll get the key for you. Not,’ she added with a grin, ‘that you’ll find his shotgun in there.’
While she was gone, Max studied the books more closely. As well as the fiction, there were a couple on forensic psychology.
It might not be the lightest reading material, but youcouldn’t arrest a bloke for that. They already knew he’d started a course in psychology and they knew he was a fan of Jill’s work and films like The Silence of the Lambs. All the same, it didn’t sit comfortably with Max.
‘Here you are,’ Liz Hutchinson said, dangling a small key from her fingers.
Grace took the key from her and unlocked the drawers.
‘I’ll go and put some clothes on,’ Liz said, leaving them to it.
It was almost as if she wanted them to find some incriminating piece of evidence. In fact, if she’d known they were coming, she might even have planted something. She hadn’t known they were coming, though. He was being fanciful.
Max looked in the drawers and, this time, all the financial statements were stored neatly in folders in the top drawer. There was a lot more paperwork but none of it interesting - TV licence, house and contents insurance policies, receipts for a DVD player and an electric fire.
In the bottom drawer was what at first glance looked to be unused school notebooks. On closer inspection, Max saw that newspaper clippings had been stuck in.
‘Good God, look at this, boss!’ Grace jabbed a finger at one of the clippings, a grainy photograph.
It was poor quality, but Jill was easily recognizable. A good quality copy of the same photograph had been hand delivered to her cottage.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ella was relieved to see Tom in his chair in front of the TV.
She hated leaving him for long, but he was sound asleep, looking relaxed and comfortable.
This morning, she had caught the train for Manchester to meet up with Gemma Thornbury. They’d had a long chat over afternoon tea at the Lowry Hotel. Sitting grandly alongside the banks of the River Irwell, the five-star hotel was dubbed Manchester’s most fashionable venue. Ella didn’t doubt it.
It would have been a thoroughly enjoyable day if not for worries about Tom, and frustration when her train was delayed. She’d toyed with the idea of taking the car, but she hated driving in Manchester these days. Traffic often had the place at a standstill and Ella swore they changed the one-way system on a daily basis.
Still, she was home now and Tom was with her. He was snoring softly. Smiling, Ella sat back in the armchair, slipped off her shoes, stretched her legs and closed her eyes. She was shattered.
It was funny, she thought, how a mental picture of someone could be so far off the mark. She and Gemma had corresponded several times by email and she’d imagined Gemma almost the same age as herself. It had come as a surprise to meet a young woman in her thirties. Also, in her emails, Gemma had appeared a brisk, businesslike type. She had been lovely and Ella could have chatted to her all day.
Gemma was researching her family tree and had wanted to pick Ella’s brain. It had been exciting to share her knowledge of Rossendale with Gemma, and to be able to give Gemma a photograph of the girl’s great-greatgrandfather, a local mill worker …
Ella was nodding off herself when Tom woke.
‘How have you been, love?’ she asked, determined to keep her tone light and unconcerned.
‘Fine.’ He smiled that gentle smile of his. ‘How was your day?’
‘Interesting.’
She told him of her day, about chatting with Gemma over tea and cakes in the hotel.
‘And you’ll never guess who was on the train,’ she added.
‘Charles and Camilla?’
‘Tony Hutchinson and some girl.’ Ella thought back to the disturbing encounter. ‘I’ve no idea who she was. The type my mum would have said was no better than she ought to be, whatever that means. Early twenties, I suppose.
A brassy-looking girl. Showing too much cleavage and wearing a skirt that should have been sold as a belt.’
Tom laughed. ‘Your powers of description never fail to amaze me.’
“I wonder who she was.’
‘Heavens, Ella, it was probably a friend or relative of his and Liz’s.’
‘Never. If that were the case, he would have introduced me. When he saw me, he went so red in the face I thought he was going to explode there and then. He was up to no good, you mark my words. If looks could kill, I wouldn’t be sitting here now.’
‘You and your imagination.’
‘Before he knew I was there, he handed her an envelope.
They looked close,’ Ella said thoughtfully, ‘but not happy to be with each other if that makes sense.’
‘None whatsoever.’
Ella laughed. Perhaps Tom was right, and she was reading something into nothing. With so much on her mind lately …
There was only one thing on her mind, losing her beloved Tom. Somehow, and she had no idea how, she had to face up to the fact that soon he would be taken from her.
She wouldn’t think about it now, though. He was here with her, and that was all that mattered. They would take things a day at a time.
‘Gemma showed me her family tree,’ she rushed on, changing the subject, ‘and it was fascinating. She’s a proper detective, that girl. But what did fascinate me - of course, Gemma wasn’t interested in this - but what fascinated me was that her aunt fosters children. Have you heard Bob Murphy mention his Aunt Jenny? His foster mother? Lives in Stockport? Well, this Jenny is Gemma’s aunt. What a small world we live in.’
“I knew he’d moved here from Stockport, but no, I don’t know of Aunt Jenny’
‘Oh, I knew he’d been fostered. According to Gemma, his mother died in a house fire. Anyway, I must remember to tell Bob about young Gemma.’
‘He’s done well for himself has Bob,’ Tom said. ‘A cracking little business he’s got there and plenty of friends.’
‘No real family, though,’ Ella said, ‘and a good business can’t take the place of family.’
‘That reminds me,’ Tom said suddenly, ‘we’ll have a word with him and see if he’ll do that front wall. I don’t know why we didn’t get him to do that when he did the work on the kitchen.’
‘I’ll give him a call in the week,’ Ella promised, amazed that Tom could worry about garden walls when his life was ebbing from him.
Her mind drifted back to her meeting on the train with Tony Hutchinson. Even allowing for an over-active imagination, there had been something odd about that. The
way he’d handed over that envelope had been shifty. He’d looked about him and then, just as he was handing it over, spotted Ella.
His face had quickly broken into a smile. It had been a cold, forced smile that had stopped a long way short of his eyes.
Ella wondered about Liz and, not for the first time, her heart filled with sympathy. No wonder Liz had a drink problem. Everyone in the village knew that Tony was an incorrigible flirt. Ella guessed it went deeper than flirting, too. It was none of her business, but she suspected Liz had a lonely existence.
That woman he’d been with was too young to be his mistress. What nonsense, she scoffed. No one would be more thrilled than Tony to discover he could still attract someone so young.
She could have been one of those escorts, she supposed.
Ella had no idea how the system worked, but didn’t men pay to have young women accompanying them? That would explain the envelope he’d handed over. And didn’t those women often perform sexual favours?
Ella smiled to herself. She had no idea; and she wasn’t sorry about that.
‘What’s amused you?’ Tom asked curiously.
‘That woman with Tony Hutchinson,�
� she told him. ‘I’d just mentally booked her as one of those escorts. The sort that are paid to go out with men. I then wondered if these men had their wicked ways with them.’
‘And do they?’
‘I’ve no idea what they do/ Ella chuckled, ‘and I’m way too old to find out.’
Chapter Thirty-Three
It was the Sunday before Christmas, a bright, crisp, clear day. It was getting chilly now, but the sun had made it pleasantly warm during the day.
Jill had bought a book giving details of easy, moderate and difficult walks in the area and today she’d chosen a moderate one. Unfortunately, the author’s idea of moderate wasn’t quite the same as Jill’s. Her legs were protesting and she still had quite a trek home. Perhaps she couldn’t blame the author for that; she’d spent too much time in front of a computer lately and was out of condition.
There was another reason she couldn’t blame the author; she had a feeling she’d strayed from his route. She’d had a vague idea of where she was, though, and when she came to New Line reservoir, she knew exactly where she was, about to head out on to the Bacup to Rochdale road.
She walked by the side of the lake and smiled at the way the ducks and geese spotted her and rushed over.
‘If I had any bread,’ she told them, ‘I’d be eating it myself. I’m starving - duck with orange sauce sounds good to me.’
With disgruntled quacks and squawks, they swam or flew off.
Jill wished she’d brought her camera. The sun was sinking fast, leaving everything bathed in warm light, and the scenery was stunning. The hills rose behind the lake, the steep fields separated by old stone walls. Sheep were white spots on the hillside.
She’d visited her parents yesterday and had been shocked by her mother’s appearance. Since her last visit, three or four months ago, Mum had aged. Yesterday, she’d looked grey, tired and old. Her X-ray had revealed something on her lung and, although Mum was reluctant to discuss it, that constant cough had spoken for itself. She was having an exploratory operation in the morning.
Jill refused to think about it. The whole purpose of this walk had been to take her mind off it.
She was about to continue on her walk when she spotted someone heading for one of the benches. Again, the ducks and geese gave this person a noisy welcome. This time, they were rewarded.
She watched the person throw bread on to the water for a full minute before she realized it was Ella Gardner. She walked across to join her.
‘Jill! What are you doing out here?’
“I could ask the same of you. I’m out for a walk and think I probably took the wrong turning. What about you?’
‘I’ve been doing some last-minute Christmas shopping,’
Ella explained, ‘and I often stop here on the way home.
Today, I even remembered to bring the stale bread.’
Ella looked tired. She also looked as if she had the problems of the world on her shoulders.
‘You OK, Ella?’
‘Mmm? Oh, yes, I’m fine.’ She smiled, but it looked a little forced to Jill.
‘Isn’t it lovely here?’
‘A gorgeous spot, isn’t it?’ Ella agreed. ‘Did you see that film - Whistle Down the Wind?’
‘That’s one of my all-time favourites. Alan Bates is the escaped convict and Hayley Mills one of the children who believes he’s Jesus.’
Smiling, Ella nodded. “I love it, too. Some of it was filmed round here, you know. One of the tunnels was used.
Of course, the tunnels are either blocked up now or used for storage. And there’s a good view of the old mill’s chimney …’
They chatted about other films they’d both enjoyed but Jill still thought Ella had things on her mind.
‘You sure you’re OK, Ella?’
‘Yes. It’s just that - well, you’ll know the police have been questioning Tony Hutchinson?’
Jill inclined her head slightly, not sure she could discuss the matter with Ella. ‘They’re bound to.’
‘Because his gun was stolen, yes.’ Ella was thoughtful.
“I saw him on the Manchester train the day before yesterday.
He was with a young girl. I didn’t recognize her, but he looked shifty, Jill. He handed her a well-stuffed envelope and then he spotted me. The way he looked at me ‘
Ella shuddered. “I told Tom all about it and made light of it for his benefit, but it made me quite nervous. It was more than anger, somehow.’
Jill was intrigued. She guessed it would take a lot to unnerve Ella.
Ella recounted the incident and gave Jill a good description of the girl involved.
‘Are you telling me this in confidence, Ella, or can I pass it on to someone who might be interested?’
Ella thought for a few moments. ‘Pass it on, Jill. It’s probably nothing at all, but you never know. Right/ she went on briskly, ‘you’d better have a lift home with me.
We’ve chatted so long, we’ll be in the dark in a minute.’
‘The exercise would do me far more good, but hey, I’d love a lift, thanks.’
They left their bench and walked back to the picnic area’s car park. Only Ella’s car was there, a small yellow one, and Jill had to laugh as she got in.
‘Are you prepared for every known emergency, Ella?’
‘Pretty much,’ Ella replied with a chuckle. ‘I’ve maps, water, sweets, a change of clothes, tissues, at least three umbrellas, a first aid kit, a couple of books in case I get stuck in a jam, binoculars in case I see some rare bird, a flask - empty, sadly …’
Ella was a slow, careful and very courteous driver. No one could have felt less than safe with her.
“I hear on the grapevine that you’ve been out with Bob Murphy,’ Ella remarked.
‘Out? I have not. Oh, I called at The Weaver’s Retreat for a drink at the same time Bob called in. We didn’t arrive or leave together,’ Jill replied, amazed at how effective the grapevine was.
‘Nice chap,’ Ella said.
‘Yes.’ They’d spent a pleasant hour talking about horses.
Ella was right; as she pulled up outside Lilac Cottage it was quite dark.
‘Will you come in for a tea or coffee, Ella?’ Jill hated going inside on her own when it was dark. She dreaded seeing another envelope lying on her doormat. Who was she kidding? She was dreading far worse than that. Envelopes she could cope with.
‘Thanks, but I’d better make it another time. I need to get home and see how Tom is.’
‘Oh? Isn’t he well?’
Ella hesitated. ‘He’s been a bit under the weather, that’s all, love. We’ll save that cuppa for another time.’
Jill left the warm car and shivered. The temperature had dropped during the short drive. She took her keys from her pocket as she walked up the driveway - then dropped them when a shadow suddenly moved.
‘Bloody hell, Don! What in God’s name are you doing creeping around? You nearly gave me a heart attack.’
‘Sorry, sorry’
Don Cornwall, wearing a smart suit as always, stood beneath the security light looking very sheepish indeed.
“I was driving past and thought I saw someone lurking around. I left my car at the end of the lane and walked back to have a look.’ He put his hand on her arm. ‘Sorry.’
‘And did you see anyone?’ Jill’s heart was pounding.
‘No.’
She unlocked her door and pushed it open, pausing only to straighten the holly wreath. There was nothing lying on her doormat.
‘Do you fancy a coffee now you’re here?’ she asked.
‘Well, yes, that would be good if it’s no trouble. And I’m really sorry I scared you.’
‘Forget it. I’m a bit jumpy at the moment, that’s all.’
A bit jumpy was putting it mildly.
‘Hey, this looks good - very tasteful.’ Cornwall admired the festive decorations. ‘You’ve been busy’
She had. Determined to make her first Christmas in Kelton Bridge a
good one, she’d bought new decorations, all in a red and green theme, and decked the place in holly sprigs and fir cones …
Jill hadn’t even had time to put the kettle on when there was a hammering on her door that set her heartbeat off even faster.
Cornwall looked at her, and must have seen how she’d jumped at the sound. ‘Do you want me to get it?’ he asked curiously.
‘No.’ She smiled at her own stupidity. ‘I’m a little paranoid at the moment. You’ll have to bear with me.’
When she opened the door, it was Bob Murphy who was bathed in the orange glow given off by her security light.
“I thought I’d drop these prices in for you/ he said.
‘Gosh, that was quick. Thanks, Bob. Are you coming in?’
‘Thanks, but I’m in a rush. Another time perhaps. Have a look through those.’ He gestured at the large white envelope in her hand. ‘Give me a ring sometime.’
“I will, and thanks again.’
He was halfway along her drive, heading back to his white van, when he suddenly turned. ‘What do you think of Sundown’s chances? He’s running at Wolverhampton tomorrow.’
“I know he is. Not a hope in hell.’
‘You’re probably right,’ he agreed with a laugh, giving her a wave as he carried on his way.
Feeling all kinds of an idiot, Jill returned to the kitchen to make coffee for herself and Don Cornwall.
Chapter ThirtyFour
He hit the button and the car’s window purred open.
‘How much?’ he asked, when she leaned on the roof and peered inside.
‘Depends what you want.’
This one looked uninterested, as if it were her choice and not his.
He took his wallet from his top shirt pocket, flicked it open so she’d see the wad of notes, then returned it to his pocket. “I want the best.’
Kennedy 01 - Into the Shadows Page 18
