by Joy Ellis
With a bony finger, she cleaned a tiny circle in the greasy dirt on her window. The evening was still. No wind stirred the black reed grass that grew near the cottage, and she could hear very few bird calls. She wondered if he would return in time to give her the medication. She didn’t want to miss it, and then have to begin again with those awful side effects.
For the twentieth time that day, she checked the hiding place of the old knife. She would probably never have the courage to use it, but it was there if this dreadful existence became intolerable. It was her insurance, her provision against an even darker night. With considerable tenderness she kissed it, and laid it back to rest.
* * *
All three of the men who had been interested in Dina Jarvis still lived in the area. Joseph had managed to contact two of them, but the third, Keel Chandler, was proving more difficult to track down.
‘We need “Amazing Yvonne” to get the lowdown on this one,’ Jessie grumbled, ‘And she’s out on a shout.’ She turned to Dave. ‘You don’t know of a family called Chandler, do you? Live out on the fen somewhere?’
Dave seemed totally engrossed in checking his computer for something, and didn’t reply.
‘Earth calling Dave!’ Jessie yelled.
‘Sorry. Cat asked me for a trace on someone, and it’s not turning out to be straightforward.’ He stared at the computer accusingly.
‘I asked if you knew a fen family by the name of Chandler.’
‘Bryn Chandler is the secretary of the bowls club. Fred Chandler is in charge of the allotment society. Alma and Fred Chandler live over the chip shop in Corley Eaudyke. Then there’s—’
‘Whoa! I don’t need you to recite the telephone directory. How about a man named Keel Chandler?’
‘Never heard of him.’
‘Great. You know thousands of Chandlers but not the one I need.’
‘Why not ask—’
‘I know, ask Yvonne. Sadly I can’t, she’s attending to a traffic accident on the High Road.’
Jessie went over to Joseph and told him.
‘Okay, well, I suggest we go visit the other two, and continue the hunt for number three when Yvonne is free to join us.’ Joseph stood up and glanced at the memo he had just written. ‘Robbie Lyons first, then Arthur Kirkby.’ He indicated the door. ‘Shall we?’
Jessie gathered up her jacket and bag. ‘I’m ready.’ She glanced back at a worried-looking Dave, and added, ‘Good luck with that search of yours.’
* * *
Dave muttered a goodbye and returned to his screen. He was glad that Jessie had left the office. He had not wanted her to see what he was researching.
Susie Cavacini. He remembered the whole affair well. Mind you, he ought to — he was there when Graham had ripped off his uniform jacket and dived into the water to rescue the child. He had never seen anyone act so quickly.
But he needed to know considerably more than what he remembered. With an exasperated sigh, and wishing that Cat were here to help him, he tapped the name Cavacini into Google.
His sigh became a loud groan when he saw the quarter of a million hits that came up. The first ones were all about football or tennis, and he refined his search. After a while he found a mention of Susie Cavacini and wondered why he hadn’t started the search with her full name in the first place. ‘Getting old, mate.’ He double-clicked the site and found a blog about the young swimmer, who after nearly drowning, had gone on to swim for her school and was a hopeful to represent the county. ‘Well done, Graham,’ he whispered. ‘Without you, I might be reading an obituary.’ Under news about PC Graham Hildred’s dramatic rescue, he found several newspaper archive reports. Finally he arrived at what he wanted, and opened it. It was a whole section of photographs. He smiled. ‘That’s our Graham, one seriously good bloke.’ He shook his head, downloaded one of the pictures and moved on to the next. Susie with her parents, shaking hands with a smiling, uniformed Graham, a really poignant photo, and one the papers used frequently after the police officer had gone missing.
Dave suddenly froze. He leaned closer to the screen, then pulled out his desk drawer and snatched up the photographs that he had emailed to Cat earlier. Throwing several to one side, he grabbed one of them and held it up against the picture on the screen.
The girl’s father! He had very similar features to the well-heeled entrepreneur shaking hands with the bent brief, Lewis Rosewood. Yes, this man was younger for sure, and certainly better looking, but there was a marked resemblance to Freddie Carver.
Dave printed off the picture and pushed back his chair. He needed to talk to the boss.
He hurried through to her office and showed her what he had found. ‘A relative, ma’am?’
She scrutinised the picture. ‘I’d say so, wouldn’t you? Good for you, Dave. This could be the reason Carver is in this area. Family, but living under a different name, so we would never know.’
‘Can I go and have a word with them?’ Dave asked, ‘Casual like, see if I can check if we are on the right track, but not alarm them.’
‘If they still live in the same place.’ She tapped out a staccato tattoo on the desk. ‘And you’d need to think up a really plausible excuse for being there.’
‘I don’t think they would recognise me. On the day it happened, as soon as the child was on dry ground I was sent to look out for the ambulance, then I was busy keeping the crowd back. The family never saw me, and even if they did, it’s been years now. They’ll think I’m just some old codger, not a detective.’
Nikki sat back. ‘You’re far from being an old codger, my friend. But okay, think of something believable, and don’t go alone. Take another plain-clothed officer with you.’
‘And if Freddie Carver opens the door, I leg it, right?’
Nikki smiled at him grimly. ‘Somehow I don’t think that will happen. Have you let Cat know about this yet?’
‘I came straight to you.’
‘Then I’ll ring her and bring her up to speed. And, Dave? I want an update immediately you are back.’
‘You got it, ma’am.’
* * *
Robbie Lyons was not exactly ecstatic about receiving a visit from the police. Joseph could see from his body language that he was far from comfortable.
‘I can barely remember her. Anyway, she left the area years ago, so why talk to me now?’
Lyons was tall and well-built, not in an athletic way, but he was obviously strong from working the farm. Joseph didn’t like his defensive tone.
‘I’m surprised about that, sir. We have met several people who thought you were very fond of her,’ Jessie said.
‘Well, they are wrong.’ He sniffed. ‘I did fancy her a bit at one time, but she wasn’t interested so,’ he shrugged, ‘end of story.’
He stood close to the side of the tractor and fidgeted. Joseph guessed that Lyons was probably wishing it was a fast car, because he showed every sign of doing a runner.
‘We are trying to build a picture of Dina, sir. What was she like?’
Lyons looked at him with narrowed eyes. ‘Has something happened?’
‘No, sir, not that we know of. Do you know anything?’
‘No!’ He almost shouted the word. ‘I haven’t seen her since she ran away. Okay, I did ask her to go out with me, and once, just once, we went to a club and had a good time, but then, well, I . . .’
Jessie glowered at him. ‘You tried it on, and she told you where to stick it. And probably quite literally.’
He sighed. ‘Something like that. Well, alright, it was just like that. I tried to talk her round, to apologise, but she didn’t want to know.’
‘So, I ask you again, what was she like?’
Lyons kicked at some dried mud. ‘Lovely. She was so bright and full of life. I really thought she’d run off with some rich git.’
‘You know that for sure?’ Joseph asked.
‘I saw him. I was following her. No, not stalking her! I just wanted to try one more time, say I
was sorry, that’s all.’
‘Where was that, and more to the point, when was it?’
‘At the Marina. It must have been only a day or two before she left. I had almost caught up with her when suddenly she waved, and ran over to this bloody great shiny car. The driver opened the door for her and she jumped in.’
‘Did you see him?’
Lyons puffed out his cheeks. ‘I’ve asked myself that a lot since she left. He looked familiar, that’s all I can say. Then he drove off. Sadly it had tinted windows, so no chance of a second look.’
‘Familiar?’
‘I just thought I recognised him in that fleeting moment, but I guess I was mistaken, because it’s never come back to me.’ He looked suddenly sad. ‘And after all this time, I guess it never will.’
Back in the vehicle, Joseph looked across at Jessie. ‘That expensive car again. And now it’s been seen by two witnesses, Lyons and Dominic Jarvis. This man existed, didn’t he?’
‘Oh yes. Hell, I wish we could see CCTV footage from the marina, but as we are going back a while, that’s definitely out.’ Jessie frowned. ‘He was well twitchy, wasn’t he?’
‘Some people are like that around the police though, aren’t they?’
‘Only if they have something to hide.’
‘You didn’t like him, did you?’
‘Not much, but I guess that doesn’t make him an abductor.’
‘Okay, so let’s go see if you like Arthur Kirkby any better.’
* * *
It didn’t take long to reach Cannon Vale Nursing Home, where they soon located Kirkby. They sat in a staff room at the back of the big house. Kirkby immediately began to make them tea.
‘I’ve timed my break to fit in with your visit, officers. After your call I was most concerned that you’d found out some bad news about Dina. Is that the case?’
‘How well did you know Dina Jarvis?’ asked Joseph.
‘Not as well as I would have liked, to be frank.’ Kirkby gave a little laugh. ‘Not for want of trying, it has to be said.’
Jessie’s look said chalk and cheese. And Joseph agreed. The two men could not be more different.
‘But she turned you down?’
Kirkby laughed. ‘Oh yes, on a regular basis! She was really cool, that one.’
‘Do you have any theories about her disappearance, sir?’ asked Jessie, gratefully accepting a steaming mug of tea.
Kirkby was silent for a while. ‘No, not really, although at the time I was shocked to the core.’ He handed Joseph his tea and sat down heavily on one of the tatty plastic chairs. ‘All I know is that one day she was on top of the world, then the next she had vanished off the face of it.’
‘Do you think she was abducted?’ Joseph asked.
Kirkby pulled a face. ‘No.’ He leaned forward, closer to Joseph. ‘Did you know Dina could sing? And I mean really sing.’
Joseph frowned. ‘No. No one has mentioned that to us, even her brother.’
‘Ha! Dominic! Well, I’m not surprised there. He didn’t exactly approve of her singing in public, and by heck, she had the voice of an angel.’ His grin widened. ‘And dance! She could have been a pro, you know. She was that good.’
Joseph felt a thrill of excitement. It was almost a passing comment, but he had a feeling that this was the key to her disappearance.
‘Back then, I was well into music,’ Kirkby volunteered. ‘Dina used to come round to my place and we’d play stuff I’d downloaded. She wanted to make a demo, and I told her I had a mate who could arrange it for her. He had a sound studio and after I told him what a great voice she had, he was well up for it.’
‘Did she do it?’ asked Jessie.
He shook his head sadly. ‘No, she decided against it. She told me that she knew Dom wouldn’t want her to, and she didn’t want to hurt him. They were very close, you know.’
Jessie placed her mug on the table. ‘Surely you have some idea of what might have happened to her? You seem to have been pretty close, even if you never made it past go.’
‘There were rumours. I tried not to listen, because to tell you the truth, I was gutted. For a time I wondered if it was to do with me, because I tried to push her too hard to make the demo, but—’
‘What rumours?’
‘There was a crazy kid. He used to follow her everywhere. He was harmless, but he was besotted with her.’
‘Keel Chandler?’
‘You know him?’
‘We know of him.’
‘Maybe you should talk to him, if you can get any sense out of him. He said he saw Dina the night before she went missing. If the story he told has any truth in it, then you might have the answer to where she went.’
‘What did he say?’
Kirkby seemed to shrink into himself. ‘It would be hearsay. Not only that — Keel, poor kid, is far from reliable. He has learning difficulties and a multitude of other problems. I’d rather not pass on what is probably a load of rubbish. If he tells you, then make what you will of it, but that’s all I want to say.’
‘One last thing, and you have been really helpful, Mr Kirkby, you said you didn’t think she had been abducted, so what did you think?’
‘That maybe she had been offered a chance for an audition. She had been seen with a man in a flash car, and she had mentioned something about a gorgeous guy making her an offer. I never thought it was anything to do with sex, because Dina, well, she . . .’
‘We know about Dina, sir.’
‘Ah, well, I thought he’d offered her an audition or a chance to try out for something like a musical.’ He shrugged, ‘I still do. But as I say, talk to Keel, he was obsessed with her. If anyone knows something, it’s him.’
‘Where can we find him?’
‘Somewhere near Rainer’s Gowt. His grandmother has an ancient old cottage out there somewhere. He lives with her.’
Back in the car, Jessie said, ‘We are only two minutes from the Post Office main sorting office, and they would know where the Chandler cottage is.’
‘Good thinking, Batman.’ Joseph pulled out onto the main road into town, ‘So did you like Arthur better than Robbie?’
‘Considerably, although I’m slightly apprehensive about what Crazy Keel is going to tell us when we find him.’
‘If we find him. Have you ever been to Rainer’s Gowt?’
‘On a tributary of the river, isn’t it? On the flatland approaching the marsh?’
‘It’s an odd spot alright. I’ve only been there once and I didn’t know how the hell to get back to the road. The lanes and tracks all twist and turn until you have no idea which direction you are heading in.’
They turned into the drive-in area outside the sorting office and parked.
Jessie spoke with the woman on the front desk, and she asked them to wait while she made some enquiries.
In just a few minutes a tall, tanned, smiling postman came out to them. ‘Hello, I’m Nigel. I hear you’re looking for the Chandler cottage?’
Jessie looked at his shorts. Judging from how tanned his legs were, he probably wore them all year round.
‘We are,’ said Joseph. ‘Can you give us directions?’
‘I could, but there’s a good chance you’ll be calling for your mates to come and find you.’ The smile faded. ‘There’s nothing wrong with the old duck, is there? She’s a smashing old girl, bit of a jingle-brain, but she must be near ninety.’
‘No, nothing like that. We just need a word with Keel Chandler.’
Nigel looked at his watch. ‘Tell you what, I’ve got a special delivery for an address only about half a mile from their place. If you follow me, I’ll take you there, then you’ll see what a devil it is to find.’
They thanked him and returned to the car. In a few moments they heard the tooting of a horn and saw Nigel waving to them from his bright red Post Office van.
‘Oh well, into the unknown,’ Jessie said.
‘Here goes nothing,’ Joseph replied.
&
nbsp; CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Dave stood on the doorstep of a rather pleasant house in Station Road and waited while a young boy of around eight went to fetch his father. He had decided to stick as closely to the truth as he could, so as not to trip himself up.
‘Mr Cavacini? I’m Dave Harris and I’m so sorry to bother you, but I’m doing an editorial for the local police magazine. My colleague here and I are trying to find some background stories about some of the Fenland officers who were awarded medals for bravery.’
The man was something of a disappointment. For one thing he didn’t look nearly as much like Freddie as Dave had first believed, and then when he spoke, he seemed rather weak and ineffectual, nothing at all like Fat Man Carver.
‘I’m sure everything that could have been said about the officer who saved our Susie has already been said. The papers were full of it for so long.’
‘And how is the young lady? Doing well, I hope?’
‘Oh yes, she’s a star. Of course she’s a teenager now, but every day we give thanks that we still have her with us.’
The man sounded almost like a religious convert, not a villain’s close relative, and Dave started to have doubts.
‘Look, it’s not a very good time right now, I have to get my boy to football practice, but if you ring me and make an appointment, I’d be happy to help you if I can.’
Dave took out a pen and fished around in his pocket for something to write on. He didn’t want to produce his official pocket book because he was anxious to appear retired or at the very least, a civilian. Finally he found a petrol receipt and scribbled the Cavacinis’ number on the back. ‘Thank you, sir, that’s much appreciated.’ He held out his hand and was surprised at the strength in the man’s grip. ‘I’ll ring you, maybe next week.’
As he made his way down the path, he glanced back, and saw the man watching them go. Dave drew in a breath and continued walking. The expression on Cavacini’s face was pure poison. And in that flash of a second, he looked exactly like Carver.
