Crow Trap

by Ann Cleeves

  This was a mistake, Rachael thought. Better to be cooped up in Baikie’s with Anne flirting and Edie making snide comments, than here stirring up old memories. Because here she could forgive him the stolen work and the wife. It would have been easy to reach out and take his hand.

  ‘Do you fancy a swim?’ he said and that made things worse. It was a sort of joke, a reference to the old times when they were living on their own in Baikie’s and they’d come up here after a day in the field, laughing at the shock of cold water, the peaty mud squelching between their toes as they waded out to find somewhere deep enough to swim.

  She was tempted to say ‘Why not?’ She knew what he wanted. A bit of a fling. Confirmation that the old charm still worked. Someone to bitch to about Amelia and the drag of married life. But she wanted to forget about the case for an hour, the exhilaration of running into the tarn and the feel of his jersey as he held her. The contact that Grace hadn’t had.

  ‘No,’ she said, her voice light. ‘We’re not here to play.’ Because pretending she could be close to Peter again was like Grace pretending there were more otters in the valley than the rest of the county. It was seductive but untrue and in the end would drive her barmy.

  They stood looking over the tarn. There was no breeze, no distant sound of traffic, no aircraft. Occasionally a fish jumped silver then landed with a splash and a ring of ripples and the water lapped against the reeds, spilling out almost to their feet.

  ‘Grace was lying,’ she said.

  ‘Are you sure? She was bloody good. Everyone said. Perhaps she picked up some clues you and Anne missed. I mean if it were true it would be dynamite.’

  ‘You’d have to write a paper,’ she said.

  ‘Right!’ The sarcasm eluded him altogether.

  ‘I am sure. Quite sure. And if you publish those results in their present form I’d come out publicly to question them.’

  ‘All right. No need to get like that. We’re a team, aren’t we? I wouldn’t do anything without consulting you first.’

  She said nothing. He had convinced himself and there was no point arguing.

  He went on, ‘Why did she do it?’

  ‘Anne thinks she was just mad. The inspector thinks her father put her up to it.’

  ‘And Edie, the great oracle. What does she think?’

  ‘I’m not quite sure.’

  ‘It’s not like Edie to keep her mouth shut.’

  He sat on the grass and clasped his knees playing the schoolboy. He looked up at her. ‘And what’s your theory? You’re the most observant person I know. You must have some idea.’

  Rachael shrugged. ‘How well did you know her, Peter?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘You must have met her before she started. Interviewed her at least. You don’t employ anyone without an interview. Company policy. I should know. But she didn’t come into the office, did she? I would have remembered. It was supposed to be my team. Picked by me. Then I found out a mammal person had been appointed and I had to lump it.’

  ‘But she was good, Rache. The best. I had to snap her up while I had the chance.’

  ‘Where did you find her?’

  ‘Scotland. She was working for a mate. I saw her in the field and I was impressed. There wasn’t any need for a formal interview. Look, I didn’t mean to put your nose out of joint.’

  ‘But you rated her. After one meeting.’

  ‘Sure, she was shit-hot.’

  Rachael stood for a moment. ‘Tell me about the setup in Scotland.’

  ‘She was working for the Wildlife Trust, the second year of a two-year contract. She was supposed to be co-ordinating volunteer counts but she wasn’t much good at delegation and ended up doing most of the work herself. Accommodation was provided for the contract staff but she didn’t use it. She was the only woman. Perhaps that was it. She started off camping then found digs in a farm.’

  ‘Did you go to poach her for the Black Law project?’

  ‘God no. I went because it was my mate’s thirtieth birthday party. She was there, but only briefly. Hardly the life and soul. The next day he arranged for her to take me out. She was coming to the end of the contract. We needed someone for the mammals at Black Law. It made sense.’ He paused. ‘Look, I know I should have consulted you but, as I said, she was good. Ideal. She was interested in moving closer to home. She had no ties.’

  ‘Like me then. Lonely, ripe for the old Kemp charm.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ But he seemed to take it as a sort of compliment.

  ‘Did she fancy you? Come on, you must have been able to tell.’

  It was his turn to shrug.

  ‘I think Grace probably fancied you,’ she insisted. ‘Most women do. At least for a while. Is that why she agreed to start with us?’

  ‘You’re not jealous, Rache, are you?’ The tone was teasing but deliberately hurtful.

  She turned away as if she’d been hit and he spoke more gently. ‘Look, I didn’t try anything on if that’s what you mean. I’d just got married, for God’s sake.’

  ‘Oh,’ Rachael said angrily. ‘I’m not accusing you of that. What does that matter?’

  ‘Well then?’

  ‘I’ve been trying to think who would gain by Grace’s exaggerated otter counts. And it wouldn’t do you any harm. It’d be a great kudos to discover the best otter patch in the county. Never mind a paper, there’d be a book in it, a TV film.’

  ‘Are you joking? I’m being paid by Godfrey Waugh. That’s the last thing he’d want.’

  ‘So you’d have a reputation for honesty too. Mr Waugh seems quite an honourable man. Perhaps he’d welcome that. Peter the incorruptible.’

  ‘Not so incorruptible if the fraud was discovered.’

  ‘Then it would be Grace’s mistake. Not yours.’ She paused. ‘I’m not saying you asked Grace to lie. But perhaps she did it to please you.’

  ‘You’re mad,’ he said. ‘I don’t have that sort of power. You’ve spent too long in the hills.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps I have.’

  She sat on the grass beside him, a gesture of apology. She’d never gone in for conspiracy theories, but still she couldn’t quite let it go. ‘It’s not true then?’

  ‘No, it’s not true.’

  She believed him. ‘I’m sorry.’

  They sat for a moment in silence. The light was going quickly now. They couldn’t see as far as the horizon. The hills were black smudges. There was a hazy moon.

  ‘That’s all right,’ he said. ‘You’ve been under a lot of strain. But rumours like that could do me a lot of harm.’

  ‘I know.’ She continued carefully, ‘But you were here on the afternoon Bella died, weren’t you?’

  He didn’t reply.

  ‘Peter?’

  She thought he was going to lie but he saw sense, probably realizing there would be more credit in telling the truth.

  ‘Yes, I was around that day.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me when I asked you before?’

  ‘Because it was none of your business.’

  ‘Of course it was my business.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘This time it wasn’t.’

  ‘Why were you walking?’

  ‘I’d been in the office all week, sitting around, eating lunches with clients. I needed the exercise.’

  ‘That much exercise? Walking all the way from Langholme?’

  ‘I didn’t walk from Langholme. I’d parked the car up the track into the forest and walked through to Black Law that way. I came back over the hill.’

  ‘The inspector thinks Grace’s attacker parked his car there.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t kill Grace. I couldn’t have done. For Christ’s sake I was in a meeting with you at the time.’

  She didn’t answer and he asked roughly, ‘Are you satisfied?’

  ‘I want to know what you discussed with Bella.’

  ‘Business, Rache. That’s what I’m about now. Not conservation. Business.’
He turned so his back was almost facing her. ‘So I can afford the pretty wife and the nice house.’

  ‘Don’t you dare blame Amelia,’ she shouted. A startled coot scuttled out of the reeds and flapped over the water.

  ‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘No, that wouldn’t be fair.’

  She felt herself being seduced again by his sadness. She had to fight the urge to comfort him and tell him she’d make everything all right. What is wrong with us? she thought. Why do we do it? Is this how Bella felt about her little brother? Men turn pathetic and we step in to sort things out.

  ‘I have to know what you said to Bella.’ She kept her voice firm. ‘I have to know if anything you said made her kill herself.’

  ‘Of course not. What do you take me for?’

  ‘What was it all about, Peter?’

  ‘I’ve told you. Business.’

  ‘Did someone send you there?’

  ‘What?’ The question shocked him.

  ‘Whose business were you discussing? Yours? Godfrey Waugh’s? Or were you there on behalf of Neville Furness? Doing his dirty work?’

  Peter didn’t answer. He stood up and pulled her to her feet, then faced her with his hands on her shoulders. ‘You’ve got to leave this alone,’ he said. ‘It’ll make you ill.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’re a mate, but sometimes you’re too fucking serious.’

  He took her hand and set off down the hill. She followed, laughing despite herself, and they ran, hand in hand, Hansel and Gretel towards the lights of the cottage.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  The next morning, after an early count, Rachael went to Black Law farm. She wanted to tell Vera Stanhope that the survey would be finished in a week’s time. It was reassuring to have this time limit. A deadline for them all.

  She tapped on the kitchen door and walked in. The kettle was humming. It bubbled to a boil then switched itself off. In another part of the house a door shut. She didn’t hear footsteps but suddenly Neville Furness appeared in the doorway. The way he walked softly on the balls of his feet made her think of a big cat. Rachael recovered from her surprise first.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I was looking for Inspector Stanhope. I didn’t realize . . .’

  ‘She’s not here.’ She couldn’t tell what he felt about the invasion by strangers of what was now his home. ‘Nor the sergeant. They left early this morning to go to Kimmerston. They should be back at any time.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘I’ll try later.’ She was already backing out of the door.

  ‘No! Please.’ His voice was urgent. ‘I was just going to make some coffee. I suppose the police must have coffee in the place.’

  ‘In the cupboard next to the sink.’

  She stayed because she was curious. As he moved with a controlled energy about the kitchen, reaching up for mugs, squatting to lift milk from the fridge she tried to work out how old he was. Mid thirties but very fit. No grey in the dark hair. He wore jeans and an open-necked shirt. He turned suddenly to offer her a biscuit and saw her staring. He smiled and she felt herself flush as if she was in the middle of a lecherous fantasy. There was a down of dark hair on the back of his hand and black hair curled from the cuff of his shirt. He smiled again. His teeth seemed very white.

  Not a cat, she thought. A wolf. And I’m Red Riding Hood.

  ‘Come through to the other room. It’s more comfortable.’

  What big teeth you have, Grandma.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I’ll not bite.’

  He led her into the room with the French windows overlooking the overgrown garden and the view of the hill. Neville seemed too restless to sit still and after a moment got up to stand in front of the huge painting of the old mine workings.

  ‘My mother did this,’ he said.

  ‘I know, Bella told me.’

  ‘Did she?’ He seemed surprised, pleased.

  ‘We were good friends.’ She wanted to stake an allegiance.

  ‘I’m glad. She must have needed friends. It can’t have been easy looking after my father. All that work and no response.’

  ‘There was a response,’ Rachael said sharply. ‘There still is . . . He understands more than people realize.’

  ‘Oh?’ He was polite but disbelieving. Perhaps it was an attempt to hit back at him when she asked, ‘Do you remember your mother?’

  But he seemed delighted to have the opportunity to talk about her.

  ‘Not very well. Nursery rhymes sung at bedtime. Some games. She loved dressing up. And they fixed a swing for me in the barn. I remember that. Swinging into the sunshine and back into the shadow. Gran fussing because she thought I’d fall and my mother laughing. There was one party I was taken to at Baikie’s too. It must have been nearly Christmas, very frosty and cold. It was supposed to be a great treat, but Connie was so enormous that she terrified me. One of the smart ladies was wearing a fur coat and I cuddled into it, hiding. They all laughed.’ He paced to the French windows and looked out over the hill. ‘It’s not much, is it?’

  No. But more than I’ve got of my father, she thought bitterly, and made up her mind that this time she would have to pin Edie down. She deserved to know her father whatever he was like. She’d put up with enough evasion. She’d have it out with Edie before they left Baikie’s. As Anne had said, this was a good place to get it sorted. Neutral ground. It would be another deadline.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She realized that he’d been speaking. ‘I was miles away.’

  ‘I said that Dad was heartbroken when my mother died. He didn’t take any interest in anything. I mean, he carried on with the farm work but I suppose that was some sort of release. It would tire him anyway so he could sleep. But he couldn’t take an interest in me. It was too much of an effort. Emotional, I mean. He’d given everything he had to my mother. I could tell even then. Kids can, can’t they? So I tried to keep out of the way.’

  She had a picture of a boy, creeping around the house, shrinking into shadows, making no noise, and found it hard to reconcile with the image of this successful, energetic man.

  ‘And your gran came to look after you?’

  ‘Ivy, yes.’ He turned from the window to face her. ‘Did Bella tell you about that too?’

  ‘About you and Dougie and Ivy living together. Yes.’

  ‘They were good times. We weren’t a conventional family but it worked OK. Dad found it easier when I was old enough to help on the farm. We had things to talk about then.’

  ‘Neutral ground,’ she said, echoing her thoughts about her and Edie.

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Why did you leave?’

  ‘I left first to go to school. It’s too far to travel from here to Kimmerston every day, especially in the winter, so the council run a hostel where high school kids can board during the week. I was lonely at first but I suppose it made me independent. Then I went away to college. Like you, I suppose. It’s what young people do.’

  ‘Weren’t you tempted to come back?’

  ‘Not then. I had other ambitions. Something to prove perhaps. Later, when Dad was ill and it would have been natural to take over the farm, Bella was here, doing at least as good a job as I could.’

  ‘Did you resent her taking over?’ It was an Edie-like question but he seemed not to mind. ‘A bit, I suppose. Only natural, isn’t it? But I’d not have had the patience to care for him like she did. As I said, we weren’t that close. Because of Mum dying he could never be a touchy-feely sort of dad, even if it had been in his nature in the first place. I couldn’t imagine doing all those intimate things Bella took in her stride – feeding, bathing, you know. And I couldn’t imagine Dad wanting me to do it either. I suppose I could have taken over the farm, but I don’t think it would have worked, the three of us together. Now though . . .’ He had been talking almost to himself and, realizing suddenly that he had an audience, stopped abruptly.

  ‘You’re not thinking of farming Black Law yoursel
f?’ She was astonished. The whole encounter had been a surprise. She had thought of Neville Furness as a businessman. Ruthless, ambitious. Working first on the Holme Park Estate and then for Slateburn Quarries, he was, so far as she was concerned, one of the baddies who ravaged the countryside. A cartoon villain. It had been easy to blame him for Bella’s suicide, even to suspect him of Grace’s murder. Yet now he was talking so diffidently about his father, with such affection about the farm.

  Watch out, girl, you’re being conned, she thought. What big teeth he has. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  ‘It has crossed my mind to move back,’ he admitted. ‘It’s either that or sell it and I don’t think I have the heart to do that. But I’ll have a look at the figures. Perhaps I’m not being realistic’

  ‘What about the quarry?’

  ‘Oh, the quarry would go ahead without me. Or not, depending on the outcome of the inquiry.’

  ‘I suppose you’d sell access to the site across Black Law land,’ she said. ‘It would make more of a profit than sheep.’

  ‘At the moment anything would make more of a profit than sheep.’

  ‘Would you come to an arrangement with Godfrey Waugh?’ she persisted

  ‘I don’t know. I still love this place. It wouldn’t be the same, would it, with a main road past the kitchen door, articulated trucks rolling past every hour of the day and night.’

  Don’t be naive, she thought. Don’t get taken in. They all tell you what you want to hear. Remember Peter Kemp.

  ‘Do you have any idea why Bella killed herself?’ she asked suddenly.