by Joy Ellis
Ben looked unsure. ‘It’s difficult. Rosewood’s a really slippery customer, and I don’t want to rock the boat by confusing the issue. My colleagues won’t thank me for muddying the waters, not after it’s taken a year to bring the whole thing together.’
Cat took a deep breath. ‘I wonder, do you think your boss might be open to the suggestion of offering Rosewood a carrot? Easing his present and rather unpleasant situation if he grasses up Carver?’
Ben wrinkled up his brow. ‘A deal? I don’t know about the DI, but Rosewood would be a dead man if he went for it. Everyone knows Carver’s a ruthless brute. Rosewood would be signing his own death warrant.’
‘From what you say, Rosewood could go to prison for a very, very long time if he’s convicted. Ben, if you could only see the dossier that Greenborough, the Met and the Spanish police already have on Freddie Carver. It’s frightening. I think they only need one bit of help and everything will fall into place, and then that bastard will go away for life. I think that one bit is sitting downstairs in your custody suite.’
‘I suppose if Rosewood could supply certain information that would allow us to “find” some evidence, then Freddie need never know who squealed?’
‘It’s something to consider.’
‘It is, and so is finding where Freddie goes. If we could do that, we could nail him legitimately, then everyone gets their man. So let’s first check out the Cavacinis, and Rick’s posh house filled with mad people, shall we?’
‘Sounds like a great way to spend a day. Let’s do it.’
* * *
Joseph and Jessie had no luck at the Golden Dragon but as they were leaving, a waitress called them back. ‘I’d try to speak to Cassie Hedges at Tino Vino in Carter’s Lane. She worked here at that time and I’m sure she knew Dina Jarvis.’
They thanked her and headed for the wine bar tucked away down a cobbled lane between Greenborough’s only department store and a mobile phone shop.
They found Cassie busy cleaning the coffee maker. Obviously pleased to have an excuse to stop working for a while, she showed them to a table and they all sat down.
Joseph thought Cassie resembled a cheeky French Gendarme, in her rather military style uniform and peaked pillbox hat. She certainly looked smarter than her place of work. Tino Vino was not just dated, it was tired and rundown. Everything about it looked jaded except Cassie.
‘Oh yes, I knew Dina well.’ She tried unsuccessfully to push a cloud of blonde hair under her hat. ‘We were good friends for ages.’
‘Did anyone speak to you about her when she went missing?’
‘No, although I was sent to help out at the Dragon’s sister shop in Spalding around then, so maybe I just wasn’t in Greenborough.’
‘What do you think happened to her?’ asked Jessie.
Cassie pursed her lips and made a little whistling noise. ‘It’s a mystery to me. I really have no idea. It made no sense then, and it still doesn’t.’
‘She gave you no impression of being unhappy, or of anything worrying her?’
She shook her head slowly from side to side. ‘She was exactly the same as always, bright, cheerful and great fun to be with.’
Joseph sighed. They were going to get nothing more here.
Jessie leaned forward. ‘Tell me, was her brother as controlling as he seems?’
‘Dominic? No way. He was sweet with her. They had a really good relationship, and it must have been hard, having to look after themselves in their teens. He looked out for her, but not in a dominating sort of way. I liked him.’
‘Are you still in touch with him?’
‘No. Dominic was distraught when no one could find her. He changed, he was almost hostile to their old friends. I tried for a while, but he became quite unpleasant, and I’m sorry to say that I gave up.’
‘Boyfriends? Dina was very pretty, wasn’t she?’
‘Lots of men liked her. She’d dance with them, have fun, but she never had a regular bloke.’ Cassie paused. ‘Or I didn’t think she had, but the last time I saw her she was really excited about something. I know it involved a man, but she wouldn’t tell me anything.’
‘What was your impression? Was it like, “Oh, this new guy I’ve met is so hot!” or “This rich, good-looking guy says he fancies me.” You know what I mean.’ Jessie looked at her.
Cassie screwed up her forehead, bit her lip, then said, ‘It was more . . . more like he’d suggested something really important to her, something exciting.’
‘Like promising her a brilliant new career?’ Joseph knew how villains groomed youngsters with promises of fame and fortune.
‘Yes! That’s just what it seemed like. As if she was on the brink of something special. But then she was still talking about ordinary things too. I don’t believe she was planning to run away with someone, if that’s what you think.’
‘One of our officers saw her making out with a man out at the back of the Golden Dragon. Would this be one of the guys that you spoke about, the ones she danced with and so on?’ Joseph asked.
‘Dina? She wouldn’t do that!’
‘It’s a fact. He saw her.’
Cassie sniffed. ‘Then your officer is ly—, mistaken. Dina didn’t get off with men. She . . .’ Cassie looked uncomfortably from one to the other. ‘She never . . . I mean, she hadn’t . . .’
Jessie sounded amazed. ‘Are you trying to tell us that Dina Jarvis was a virgin?’
‘Exactly. They do exist, you know.’
‘Sorry, Cassie,’ Joseph chipped in, ‘but we have been told by so many people that she was gregarious and sociable, a real party animal, so it’s just a bit surprising that’s all.’
‘Dina just loved fun and dancing. She was no good-time girl in the sexual sense.’
‘And these men who you say liked her, I suppose they were locals?’
Cassie nodded. ‘There were three that I can remember, always pestering her to go out with them, but she never led them on. She was friendly, because that’s the way she was, but she always told them exactly where they stood.’
‘Their names?’ Jessie took out her pocket book.
‘Well, there was Arthur. What was his surname? Ah, Arthur Kirkby, that’s right. He was a nurse of some kind I think, although I’m not sure where.’ She paused. ‘And Robbie Lyons. Now he really liked her, he used to eat more Indian food than was good for him, just because he needed an excuse to see her.’
‘What do you know about him?’
‘He worked the land, I think, on his father’s farm, somewhere not far from town.’
‘And the third man?’
‘Keel Chandler. Now I actually felt sorry for him, because he was, well, I think the polite term they use now is “challenged.” He was a cute guy in some ways, but he was more like an adoring puppy than a prospective boyfriend. And he never understood why she didn’t want to go out with him.’
‘What does he do for a living?’
‘Nothing. I’ve been told he’s not employable. He lives on the fen somewhere with his grandmother, looks after her and does chores and runs errands for his keep.’
‘How old is he?’
Cassie exhaled. ‘He’s hard to gauge. Maybe twenty-five, thirty?’ She looked up as her manager beckoned to her. ‘Duty calls, I’m afraid. I have a strong feeling that no one else here is capable of cleaning that coffee machine. I have to go.’
Joseph stood up. ‘Thank you for talking to us, Cassie. We may be back.’
‘Any time, and if you find her, tell her to contact me. I miss her.’
As they walked back towards the police station, Joseph and Jessie decided that they had learned more about Dina than they had expected to.
‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance that Niall got it wrong, do you?’ Jessie said cautiously. ‘You did say he looked away quickly.’
‘No, he was certain, and he’s too astute to get it wrong.’ Then Joseph added, ‘But I’ll ask him again.’
Jessie grinned. ‘He
is rather . . . naïve is probably not a word you want to hear about your future son-in-law, but he is easily embarrassed. The other WPCs think he’s quite adorable.’
‘Yuk! I don’t think our young action hero would like to be thought of as adorable. For heaven sake, don’t tell him that!’
‘Actually, when you think about the stick some of our women police officers have to take, believe me, it’s a big compliment.’
‘Even so, keep that one to yourself.’ Joseph actually felt rather proud that the man who wanted to marry his only daughter had a squeaky clean reputation.
‘Where next, Sarge?’
‘I think we’ll see what we can find out about Dina’s three suitors, and maybe do a few house calls, how say you?’
‘Lead on, Macduff.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
Cat and Ben had drawn a blank. They were unable to find any Cavacini other than the family of the little girl who had been pulled from the river, and there was nothing to be found after that.
‘How about we take a break and I show you a bit of the Peak District?’
‘We have time for a picnic?’
‘I was thinking more of a nature ramble, one that involves tree spotting.’
Cat was getting square eyes from searching the computer, and her leg was beginning to ache. A walk would be very welcome. ‘Ah, yes. Luckily I have my hiking boots in the car. Oh, I’ve just had a thought. Before we go, I’ll pass this Cavacini search on to Dave. He’s rubbish with computers, but if he ties up with Yvonne Collins, they could just come up with some info for us.’
‘Go for it. I’ll meet you down in the yard.’
* * *
Appleton Dale was a quiet village. It was pretty, but not pretty enough to attract a mass of tourists, which meant that it was still inhabited by locals, not relocated southerners looking for rural bliss.
Ben drew up outside the pub nearest to Woodlands. He and Cat got out of the car and went inside. A few people looked up, but hearing him order a half of bitter and a sparkling water in his Derbyshire accent, they paid him no further attention.
‘I’ve been in here before,’ he murmured to Cat, ‘but I don’t see anyone I recognise.’ Which was disappointing. Ben knew that they could have marched straight to the Cavacini house and asked to search the grounds, but he had a very funny feeling about it. He felt it would be better to use the softly-softly approach.
‘We need some general background information, and although once you get them going, the regulars usually tell you far more than you need, we want reliable info, not gossip.’
‘Agreed.’ Cat took a sip of her water and looked around the bar. ‘How about him?’
Ben took a mouthful of beer and followed her gaze.
The man sat alone at the bar. He was perched on a bar stool, openly watching the barmaid as she poured a brightly coloured drink into a long glass. The man was well-dressed in casual clothes and was drinking the local brew. A muddy spaniel lay at his feet, one eye closed, and the other keeping an unblinking watch on his master.
‘You’re right, just what we need,’ he whispered, ‘a well-bred local. Come on.’ They moved down the bar and Ben smiled at the man. ‘Hello. Excuse me for asking, but are you from around here?’
The man looked at them, and after taking a moment to size them up, he grinned back. ‘Three doors up, for the last twenty years. Why?’
Ben held out his hand, instantly liking him. ‘Ben Radley, and this is Cat Cullen. Pleased to meet you.’
Changing his mind about spinning a yarn about house-hunting, he slipped his warrant card from his pocket and discreetly showed it to the man. ‘DC Radley and DC Cullen actually. We need some help.’
If the man was surprised he certainly did not show it. He looked around and seeing an empty table in a corner, indicated for them to join him and his dog.
‘My name is Harry Watson. How can I help?’
‘I need to know about a house called Woodlands. Do you know it?’
The man looked intrigued. ‘Yes, it’s just across the way, Detective.’
‘Call me Ben. I’m not keen on attracting too much attention.’ He took a sip of his drink. ‘Do you know the owners?’
The man shrugged. ‘Can’t say I do. They keep themselves to themselves.’
After Jace’s information about the place being a hotbed of activity, Ben had hoped for more.
‘We’ve been told there are a lot of comings and goings, day and night. Any idea why?’ asked Cat.
‘If I listened to the local gossips, I’d be able to offer you a dozen reasons, each one more fantastic than the one before.’ Harry Watson smiled. ‘I’m afraid I’m more a facts and figures sort of guy. All I know for sure is that it belongs to incomers, not locals.’ He lifted his glass and half emptied it. ‘And someone who lives there isn’t in the best of health.’
‘Who would that be?’
‘I believe his name is Mr Cavacini.’
‘Rick Cavacini?’
‘I have no idea of his first name, and I’ve never really seen him, but I believe he suffers from something like Alzheimer’s.’
‘Then he must have a local doctor?’
Harry Watson smiled. ‘I’m the local doctor, and Mr Cavacini is certainly not registered with me.’
Ben frowned. ‘So who looks after him?’
‘A private doctor visits every week. I only know that because I bumped into him recently and recognised him as one of the founders of a private psychiatric hospital just outside Derby. Pricey place it is too, caters very discreetly for the rich and famous. Cavacini must have money to be that well looked after. He has a cook, who I understand doubles up as his nurse, and there are two others who help out as well.’
‘And they all live in?’
‘The nurse certainly does, but there are outbuildings, part of the old stable block. I think the men live there.’
‘Do you know them? Speak to them?’
‘When I said they keep to themselves, I meant it. I probably see at least one of them every single day and apart from a nod, that’s it. One of the men drinks in here, too, but I still have no idea of their names, or anything about them.’
Ben stared into his glass and slowly swirled the golden liquid around, ‘And the local gossips? Anything actually plausible?’
‘What a question!’ The doctor leant down and stroked the dog’s silky head. ‘I’m not a betting man, but I’d go for the theory that he’s an embarrassment to someone, someone well-known, a celebrity or a politician maybe. Someone very high up. So rather than bung him in a home where he might be recognised, and be condemned as an uncaring son or daughter, they’ve set him up, way out here in the sticks, with his own private entourage of health professionals and carers. Hence the comings and goings. And no doubt they are now simply waiting for him to die.’
Ben felt a shiver of déjà vu and glanced at Cat. From her expression, she had the same thoughts as him. He remembered the conversation about Freddie Carver’s annual trips. Duty visits to a relative? Cavacini? Carver? He tried to stop his mind from racing ahead. ‘Does he have any visitors?’
Harry raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, I don’t make a point of watching the place, but he did have one last night. It was very late. I was on my way back from an emergency at the hospital when I saw a big, dark car pull in. It was gone by this morning.’
The very night Freddie Carver had been seen crossing the county border line into Derbyshire. Now, if Fern, Lilli and Sophie were to find justice, all they needed was a magnolia and a tulip tree. His heart leapt. ‘How’s your knowledge of trees?’
The doctor looked blank. ‘Well, I can recognise a Christmas tree, and that’s only because I come across one in the corner of my sitting room once a year. Oh, and maybe a conker? That boyhood thing, you know? Why?’
‘How about a magnolia?’
‘Ah yes, the pinky-white jobs that get clobbered by the frost, just when they are really starting to look good. We’ve got one of those.’
‘Does the Woodlands garden have one?’
‘No, I don’t think so, although it’s a few years since I’ve been in there.’
Ben’s excitement began to ebb.
Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘Although, come to think of it, there may be one out beyond the paddock, not actually in Woodlands grounds, but quite close. There are lots of mature trees out there.’
‘Who owns that land?’
‘No one’s too sure anymore. Donkey’s years ago it was all part of a TB sanatorium. It was so badly bombed in the war that they pulled it down. A few old cottages and outbuildings are still standing. Attracts the occasional tramp or squatter, but the land is well overgrown. It runs from just behind Woodlands right down the river at Dalesmeet.’
Ben felt a shiver of excitement. ‘Thank you, Doctor. You’ve been very helpful.’ He handed the man a card. ‘My number, in case you think of anything else. Now we’ve really got to go, but please, will you allow us to buy you another drink?’
* * *
As she had rather expected, he had pressed her to have patience and to continue with the medication. He had explained that the new drugs were very strong and it would take a bit of time for her system to adjust to them. She had to agree that her pain was less, but the confusion and the strange visions were still very worrying. Last night she believed that she had been out on the fen, walking barefoot on the path across the marsh. She had been surrounded by fuzzy, dancing, patches of light, weird jack-o’-lantern type shapes that had twisted and bobbed ahead of her. In the darkness, out over the fen, her mother called anxiously to her, telling her to watch her step and not forget the treacherous tides.
Next day she had found that her feet were mud-caked and scratched. There was no way she could have stepped lightly through the boggy ground as she’d imagined she had, but she had certainly not got plastered in mud here in her bedroom.
She moved slowly across to the table and broke off another piece of the delicious chocolate he had left for her. She’d had no dinner, and it looked as if supper had been forgotten, but she did have the chocolate. It would see her through till morning, and at least he had recently managed to remember her breakfast, not that she had been in any fit state to eat it. The medication left her sleepy, nauseous and with a ferocious thirst. He said it would ease, and she was sure it would. Her pain had been terrible and her chest still rattled when she coughed, so it was no surprise that the doctor had prescribed something so powerful.
