THE BEEKEEPER a gripping crime mystery with a dark twist

by Stewart Giles

  “We’ll be in touch, Mrs Green.” Taylor held out a slender hand. Alice grasped it tightly.

  “And please,” Taylor added, “please let us know if your friend does show up.”

  After DC Taylor had left, Alice sat in the kitchen and looked out onto the back garden. The bees were at their busiest now, buzzing back and forth between the flowers and the hives.

  Milly hasn’t won the lottery. She isn’t sitting on a beach in Spain right now, wondering how to spend her money.

  She couldn’t remember if Milly even played the lottery. She remembered the first time they’d met though. It was a summer dance in Plymouth. They were both eighteen years old but Alice seemed years ahead in confidence and experience. Milly had always been the shy, nervous one. While Alice flirted, Milly would always be in the background waiting for something to happen. Alice always thought it was a miracle Milly ever got married.

  She’d met Stanley at another Plymouth dance too. Handsome, charming Stanley Green. She ought to have known from the start how it would all turn out. She should have known those blue eyes and crooked smile were trouble.

  Alice poured herself a glass of port. It was a bit early but she needed something to calm her nerves. It had been a trying few days. First the finger, and now her best friend had disappeared. The jackdaw started to make a droning sound which was distinctly like the dull detective sergeant.

  “Don’t be cheeky.” Alice opened the cage and scraped some dog food onto the tray on the bottom. “You jackdaws will eat anything, but you do love your dog food. But this ‘idiot’ business has got to stop. Do you hear me?” The phone rang as she closed the cage door.

  “Mrs Green,” said DC Taylor, “sorry to bother you.”

  “Have you found something?”

  “I’m sorry, but not at the moment. I just wanted to ask you something. You said you and Mrs Lancaster have been going to the market in Berryton for years.”

  “That’s right.”

  “But you go there in different vehicles, even though you live just two doors away from each other? You told me you first became suspicious when she didn’t turn up.”

  “We used to both go in my van. It’s got more space in the back than Milly’s car. But then Milly started to complain about my driving. She said it scared the life out of her and she reckoned I ruined most of her baking on the way. The van’s old and it gives quite a bumpy ride.”

  “So Mrs Lancaster has her own car?”

  “She’s got a small Ford. One of those Fiestas, I think.”

  “I didn’t see a car there earlier. Where does she keep it?”

  “She parks it on the road by the pub. It’s just down the road. The Old Boar. There’s no place to park outside Milly’s cottage.” Parking in Polgarrow had always been a problem.

  “Could you do me a favour? I’m stuck in Trotterdown for the next few hours. Could you check to see if Mrs Lancaster’s car is still there?”

  “Of course.” Alice wrote down the police woman’s mobile phone number on the pad by the phone and hung up.

  Alice locked her front door and walked down the road to the pub. She passed the Old Boar and carried on towards the village store. She crossed the road and returned in the direction of her house. Milly’s blue Ford Fiesta was nowhere to be seen.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  DC Taylor and DS Duncan arrived at Alice’s house just over an hour later. Duncan seemed unimpressed. He had changed his clothes, and was now wearing a golf shirt and a pair of black jeans. The smell of stale beer hit her in the face as he came in.

  “This is a new development, of course,” he told her. “Mrs Lancaster is missing and now so is her car. I’d say this puts an entirely new perspective on things.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Alice asked.

  “Mrs Green,” DC Taylor said, “DS Duncan seems to think this is a good sign.”

  “And what do you think, dear?” Alice said.

  “She’s taken her car and she’s gone off somewhere,” Duncan said before Taylor had a chance to answer. “We’re checking for any reports of cars with that registration, but we know that nobody fitting Mrs Lancaster’s description has turned up in any of the local hospitals. And from what you’ve said, there’s nothing to suggest any funny business. Your friend will turn up when she’s good and ready, Mrs Green. You mark my words.” The alcohol on his breath was starting to make Alice feel ill.

  “What do you think?” she asked Taylor again.

  “DS Duncan is probably right,” Taylor told her. “There’s no evidence of foul play.” She sounded carefully non-committal.

  “We’ll see ourselves out,” Duncan said.

  “Idiot.” The jackdaw said.

  “That reminds me,” Duncan added. “I must remember to check on that wild bird licence business. First thing in the morning. Now I have to get back to my wife.”

  Alice watched as they drove away. Taylor’s words hadn’t exactly filled her with confidence. Something in her tone suggested she thought something had happened to Milly Lancaster.

  Milly wouldn’t just drive off into the sunset, she thought.

  She poured herself a large glass of port and went into the back garden. The bees were ready to call it a day. Alice checked the hives one by one. They were doing well. If they continued like this, she would have double the normal amount to sell at the Berryton market next month.

  She took a long sip of port and wandered over to the hollyhock bushes. She shivered when she thought about how close DC Taylor had been to the disturbed soil. She wondered how and why Stanley’s hand had surfaced.

  “Hello there.” Eddie Sedgwick had been watching her from his garden.

  Alice jumped. She wondered how long he had been standing there.

  “Lovely day,” Eddie said.

  Alice glared at him. He was wearing a pair of denim shorts and a pink T-shirt with the words “I love Florida” on it. His legs were pale and hairless.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked her. “I couldn’t help but notice that the police have been round twice today. I recognised Sergeant Duncan. I know him from poker nights in Trotterdown.”

  “Everything’s fine,” Alice snapped. She stepped away from the hollyhock bushes.

  “How do you get yours to bloom so nicely?” Eddie pointed to the hollyhocks. “Barbara’s always moaning at me about ours. I only seem to get a few flowers each year. Are you using some kind of special fertiliser?”

  “It’s the bees. They help with the pollination.”

  “Well, tell your bees,” Eddie looked around to make sure nobody was listening, “they’re welcome in my garden any time.” The pathetic grin on his face irritated her. Perhaps he thought he was being witty. “Bugger what my Barbara says,” he added.

  Eddie stood there for a few moments without saying anything. Alice tried to ignore the inane grin on his face.

  “Must dash, then,” he said eventually. “My Barbara will be sending out a search party.”

  Alice watched as he turned and walked up the path to his house. The Sedgwicks had lived next door to her for almost thirty years and Alice could count on the fingers of one hand how many times she had set foot in their house. The only neighbour she liked was Milly, and she’d disappeared. Something was definitely wrong. Milly was not the type to set off on a road trip without telling her best friend.

  Alice went back in. The doorbell rang as she switched on her new TV. A sombre-looking DC Taylor stood there. It was pretty clear from her expression that she did not have good news.

  “Sorry to bother you so soon,” Taylor said. “Can I come in?”

  “Have you found Milly?”

  “Please,” Taylor said, “can I come inside?”

  Alice stepped aside.

  “We’ve found Milly Lancaster’s car.” Taylor came straight to the point.

  “What about Milly? Have you found Milly?”

  “No. That’s the thing. Mrs Lancaster wasn’t in her car.”

  “That
’s good news then, isn’t it? Where was the car?”

  “That’s what worrying us,” Taylor said. “A hiker found the car. He was walking along the top of Merryhead when he spotted something.”

  “What on earth was Milly doing up on Merryhead?” Alice asked. It was a popular spot for young couples, but not for older local people. The view across the sea was spectacular but the cliffs were sheer. It was unwise to venture too close to the edge.

  “The car wasn’t up on the cliffs. It was smashed to pieces on the rocks below.”

  “Oh my God.” Alice sat down. “Are you sure it was Milly’s car?”

  “Positive. The hiker had a pair of binoculars. Even though the car was pretty badly smashed up he managed to get a look at the registration number.”

  “And you’re sure Milly’s not inside?”

  “We’ve got a team down there right now. They had their work cut out for them with the tide coming in, but they managed to get the car onto a trailer. There was no sign of her.”

  “But that’s good news, surely?” Alice insisted.

  “I’m not sure.” Taylor refused to reassure her. “The way I see it, it can only mean one of two things.”

  “Two things?”

  “Either Milly wasn’t in the car when it went over the cliff or she was thrown out at the bottom and her body was washed out to sea. I don’t mean to alarm you, Mrs Green, but I’m afraid you need to prepare yourself for the worst.”

  *

  Alice stared at a spot of dirt on the wall above the fireplace. DC Taylor had promised to let Alice know if anything new came up. Milly’s car was now in the hands of the forensics technicians and Taylor had assured Alice that they would go over the vehicle with a fine-toothed comb. If Milly had been in the car when it plummeted onto the rocks, they would know soon enough.

  Alice felt numb. They’d been best friends for so long. A flood of thoughts filled her head. She fought them off by thinking about the past.

  She had been with Milly when her husband had died. At the time, Alice had been surprised at how strong Milly had been through it all and how soon she’d adapted to her new life. It was as if her husband had never been around at all. It was only when Stanley had left for the last time that Alice had finally understood how Milly felt. Life was so much easier without a husband to fret about.

  She poured a glass of port, sat back in the chair and took a large gulp. It made her feel light-headed. She closed her eyes … and quickly opened them again when an image of her husband filled her head. He was smiling his boyish smile, with the chipped tooth gleaming white in the corner of his mouth.

  My husband lies buried in my garden, and now my best friend’s broken body is lying cold at the bottom of the sea. What a horrible turn of events.

  She finished her glass of port and poured herself another one. The bottle was nearly empty.

  “What now, Alice Green?” she said out loud.

  She raised the glass in the air. She was feeling very tipsy now.

  “To absent friends,” she said, “Milly Lancaster and you, Stanley Green, you bastard.”

  She drained the glass and placed it carefully on the coffee table. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  DC Harriet Taylor parked outside her house. There was nothing more they could do until the forensic investigators had finished going over Milly Lancaster’s car.

  She found some ginger beer lurking in the back of her fridge and took a glass outside to the back garden. The wind was blowing in from the west which meant a new weather front was on the way. The house was still new to her — she’d bought it without even viewing it in person. The photographs on the estate agent’s website had sold it to her immediately. It was a three-bedroom detached house with different views of the Atlantic depending on which room you were in. Her neighbours were mostly middle class — and the peace and quiet suited Taylor just fine. She’d been lucky. When she had made the offer on the house, her head had not been quite right. It was three weeks after the accident which had turned her world upside down.

  Taylor sat down on the garden bench and breathed in the crisp sea air. She thought about the day of the accident. She remembered it as clearly as if it had been yesterday. Probably she always would. It had been the fifth of November, Guy Fawkes Night. It had been cold and damp, as it always was in Edinburgh in November, and Taylor had been called out to investigate a burglary. Fireworks were going off all around the city and the air was thick with smoke and the stench of sulphur. Other than that, it had a been a pretty ordinary evening.

  When she got back to the station, nobody would look her in the eye. Had she done something wrong? If so, she had no idea what. Eventually, Inspector Morag Childes, a hulking mass of a woman, appeared and asked Taylor into her office.

  The look in Childes’ eyes was something Taylor would never forget. She remembered the conversation in that office word for word.

  “Take a seat,” Childes had said.

  “What’s going on?” Taylor sat down. “Everybody around here is treating me like I have the plague.”

  Childes looked out of the window. A huge bang went off and the sky lit up with red, blue and green light.

  “There’s been an accident down on the Lothian Road,” Childes said to the window.

  “An accident?”

  “A lorry hit a car head on. The people in the car didn’t stand a chance.”

  “That’s terrible. But what’s it got to do with me?”

  “I’m afraid Daniel was driving the car.”

  She went numb at the sound of her husband’s name. Daniel ‘Danny’ Taylor was a property developer in the city. They had been married for two years.

  “Daniel was killed instantly,” Childes continued. “The woman in the passenger seat died on the way to hospital.”

  It didn’t take Taylor long to realise what had been going on. The woman in the car with Danny was a client — and she was not the first woman to go for a late-night drive in Danny’s car. As Taylor dug a bit further and discovered the sordid details of Danny’s cheating, the initial grief turned to anger and then pure hatred. Her husband had been playing around from before the time they were married. Everything suddenly fell into place — the late-night property viewings, all the evenings supposedly spent working. Danny had been making a fool out of her since the day they met.

  When Taylor had finally returned to work after the funeral, things started to get worse. Underneath the sympathetic faces and hidden in the undertones of the kind words, something else was happening. Her colleagues were laughing at her. People she had risked her life with were now mocking her. Harriet Taylor, the policewoman who hadn’t even realised her husband was having an affair.

  In the end she had woken up one morning and decided enough was enough. She needed to get as far away from Edinburgh as possible. She started frantically searching through the jobs on the internal website and the DC post in Trotterdown was perfect. It was far enough away from the ghosts in Edinburgh, and a promotion to boot. Taylor begged Inspector Childes to recommend her for the post and Childes agreed. The insurance money from the accident more than covered the cost of the expensive house and Taylor had started her new life in Trotterdown in January that year.

  And still, after six months, it still did not seem real. Growing up on one of the less desirable estates in Edinburgh, she would never have dreamed she would one day own a house like this. But then she wouldn’t have expected quite a lot of the other things that had happened either.

  This is all that’s left of Danny Taylor, she thought, a house with a sea view and a heart full of hatred.

  Her mobile phone rang, with a number on the screen she did not recognise. “We’ve got word from forensics,” said her colleague DI Jack Killian. “I tried to get hold of Duncan but he’s not answering his phone.”

  “He’s at the Unicorn with his wife. What did they find?”

  “They’ve gone over the whole car,” Killian told her. �
��They’ve got some new diagnostic equipment they use these days and they found something interesting.”

  “Sir?”

  “The handbrake was off when the car went over the edge and they reckon the engine was off too.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m not finished. All four doors were locked. Not just locked but jammed closed. Forensics could tell. They’re not a hundred percent sure but the head technician reckons the woman was locked inside the car and then it was pushed over the cliff.”

  “Murdered?”

  “Alan Littlemore doesn’t usually make mistakes.”

  “What about the body?”

  “There was definitely somebody in the car when it went over the edge. Littlemore reckons it went over nose first and hit the rocks at the bottom, and the woman was thrown out the windscreen on impact. They found traces of blood and hair on the broken glass. I’ve checked the tide tables — the car was jammed in the rocks but the tide could easily have washed the body of a woman out to sea. Milly Lancaster was not a large woman, by all accounts.”

  “So it was definitely Milly Lancaster?”

  “We’re not one-hundred-percent sure yet. We’ll need a sample of her DNA to compare with what we got from the car.”

  “I can drive over to her house and bring in a hairbrush or toothbrush.”

  “It can wait until tomorrow. The tech guys haven’t quite finished yet. I just wanted to fill you in on what we have so far.”

  “Thanks,” Taylor said. “Murder. Are we any closer to any motive?”

  “We’ve got nothing. Nasty, though, whatever it was.”

  She rang off and looked at the ominous bank of clouds forming in the west. Time for bed. She took out the pink pillbox she usually carried in her bag, shook two blue capsules into her hand and swallowed them with the last of the ginger beer. She had started taking the sleeping pills shortly after the accident and now she found she couldn’t cope without the dreamless sleep they gave her. She knew that in half an hour or so, her eyes would start to feel heavy and her mind would slowly fill with dark mist. She put the pillbox back in her pocket and went upstairs to bed.