THE BEEKEEPER a gripping crime mystery with a dark twist

by Stewart Giles

  DI Killian had called a special meeting for midday. Maybe he’s come up with something, Taylor thought, trying to stay positive. Maybe he’s figured something out. She knew it was wishful thinking — if Killian had something he would have told her already.

  There was still half an hour before the meeting so she turned on her computer and checked her emails. The law firm representing Danny’s estate wanted her to get back to them. Taylor ignored the reminder and opened up the second email. It was from Dr Finch, attaching the full autopsy report for Stanley Green. He’d added ‘I’m still up for that drink if you’re interested.’ She smiled. Maybe I should go for a drink with Dr Finch. Maybe I should take a chance for once. What harm can it do?

  She opened the report and read it on the computer screen. Stanley Green’s body had been in a mild state of decomposition when he was discovered in the fishing net. There was no water in his lungs. The sea water had barely affected his tissues and organs, which suggested he had only been in the sea a short while. The cause of death was a series of heavy blows to the back of the head. The skull was fractured in three places and the parietal lobe of the brain had suffered severe trauma. The body had been sliced in two. The lacerations were uneven, suggesting he was cut in half in stages. One of the eyes was missing and the ring finger had been removed. Barring the blows to the head, all of the other injuries had occurred after his death.

  It was hardly bedtime reading. Taylor winced when she read the report again. Dr Finch’s conclusion was no surprise to her. In his professional opinion, Stanley Green had been hit on the head, hidden away for around a week, chopped in half and dumped in the sea. None of it made any sense.

  Why hold on to the body for so long? Why not get rid of it straight away? She was baffled. She printed the report and put it in her bag. The special meeting was about to get underway.

  The atmosphere in the main conference room when Taylor walked in told her the next few hours were going to be far from pleasant. The stern faces and low mumbling hinted that a change was on the cards. A change nobody was going to welcome. Taylor sat in the seat between DS Duncan and PC Eric White. Duncan looked very pale.

  “What’s this all about?” Taylor whispered to Duncan.

  “I don’t know, but I don’t like the look of it. A meeting the whole station is invited to attend can only mean crap from the top.”

  “Where’s Killian?” she asked.

  “In a meeting with the super.”

  “I reckon we’re in for a bollocking,” Eric White chipped in. “It’s been a week and we’re still running around like headless chickens. Three murders on our patch and nothing’s been done about it.”

  “What? We’ve been working round the clock since Milly Lancaster’s car was found,” she said.

  “And what have we got to show for it?” Duncan pointed out. “Sweet Fanny Adams.”

  Killian came in with Superintendent Brian Lemon, a short man in his late fifties. Taylor realised she had only spoken to him twice since arriving in Trotterdown and one of those times had been at her second interview for the DC position. A third man entered the room behind them. Dressed in an expensive-looking suit and looking stunningly sure of himself, he made an immediate impression.

  “Who’s that?” Taylor asked Duncan.

  “No idea, but I don’t like the look of him either.”

  “Good afternoon, everybody,” Killian said into the microphone at the front of the room, “sorry to drag you away from your work. This shouldn’t take long. Over to Brian.”

  Killian handed the floor over to the superintendent. Lemon had to lower the microphone before speaking.

  “Right,” he said, “good afternoon. I’ll get straight to the point. As you’re all aware, there’s been a number of unfortunate incidents over the past week or so. Three suspicious deaths of elderly people. Three in the space of a week. I’ve been liaising closely with DI Killian and it appears that the investigative team have hit a brick wall of sorts.”

  Taylor flinched when she looked at Killian. His head was bowed. He looked like a naughty schoolboy who had been caught bunking school.

  “I do not doubt your abilities as police officers,” Lemon continued. “Every one of you is an asset to this team.”

  “Here we go,” DS Duncan whispered, “we’re being substituted before half time.” Eric White sniggered.

  “However,” Lemon paused for a second, “we need to get to the bottom of this and I believe what we need here in Trotterdown, right now, are a few tactical changes. We’re simply not equipped to deal with matters on this scale. People out there are already speculating about a serial killer. I’ve been instructed from high up to hand over the whole investigation to a team more experienced in matters like this.”

  The whole room radiated anger.

  “I’m sure you’re all aware,” Lemon carried on, unperturbed, “that we can’t hide away these days. We cannot afford to step out of line. The police force in general needs the support of the people we are sworn to protect.”

  Taylor wondered if this guy actually believed the guff that was coming out of his mouth.

  “I’ll hand you over to DCI Warren James from Exeter. DCI James will fill you in on the restructuring that is about to be put into place. Warren.”

  “Thank you.” DCI James raised the microphone stand and flicked an imaginary fleck of dust from his suit. He looked too young to be a detective chief inspector but he sounded extremely confident.

  “Before I begin,” he said, “I can see what this looks like to you and I expect you to be resentful about that. I would be, if the shoe were on the other foot.”

  Nice opening, Taylor thought, you can’t argue with a statement like that.

  “Nevertheless, we need to face the facts. Three dead bodies and not a single lead. Let’s put aside any thoughts of territorial pissing and try to work together.”

  Superintendent Lemon’s eyed grew wide. He was obviously not pleased with James’ language. Despite herself, Taylor was impressed.

  “I’m not here to kick you off your own turf,” James continued. “I’m here to offer you a new spin on things. New ideas and fresh minds. I won’t bore you with my own track record, but let’s just say, that’s why I’ve been called in. So this is how it’s going to work. A new team will be put together. The structuring will be based on how things have worked for us in the past. Most of the team will be brought in from Exeter for the duration, but we’ll also need everything you can offer us too. Everybody will report to me directly. As this is not up for debate, I won’t ask if there are any questions. I will be conducting the interviews for the team personally and you’ll all have a chance to impress. You will be talked to during the course of the day. Thank you.” DCI James turned the microphone off.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Taylor sat with Killian and DS Duncan in the canteen. Killian was halfway through his third cup of coffee in an hour. Everybody was on tenterhooks, awaiting their fate. PC Eric White had been called into Killian’s office fifteen minutes earlier.

  “That bastard has even taken over your office, Jack,” Duncan said. “Who does he think he is?”

  “He’s good,” Killian admitted. “Maybe he can bring some new ideas to the table.”

  “You can’t just give up. This is our patch and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some Exeter arsehole tell me what to do.”

  “There’s nothing we can do about it. Orders from high up.”

  “I can’t believe you’re going to take this lying down. It’s not like you.”

  “Sometimes we have to take a step back and figure out what’s important. And right now I need to be with my wife. Maybe it’s for the best for DCI James to step in.”

  “Walk all over us, more like it. Well, I’m not going to give up without a fight,” Duncan said.

  “How’s your wife doing?” Taylor asked Killian.

  “As well as can be expected. At least her temperature’s normal again. She recognised me for a whi
le yesterday. I’m going to visit her again this afternoon.”

  PC Eric White announced his presence by kicking open the door to the canteen so hard it banged against the wall. He looked furious.

  “That bloke is a total bastard,” he said. He sat down next to Taylor.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “He’s only a couple of years older than me, for Pete’s sake. He reckons I have an attitude problem. There’s nothing wrong with my attitude. I have a great attitude.”

  “I take it you didn’t get picked for the team, then?” she said.

  “He told me I don’t have enough experience for something like this.” Eric shook his head. “Effing nonsense.”

  They sat in silence for a moment.

  “You’re up next,” Eric said to Taylor. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

  Taylor knocked on the door to Killian’s office and waited.

  “Come in,” DCI James shouted.

  It was odd to see a stranger sitting behind Killian’s desk. DCI James sat with his hands clasped behind his head.

  “Take a seat,” he said, “this won’t take long. I’m a great believer in first impressions.”

  And in your own importance, Taylor silently replied. She was beginning to think her own first impression of the man had been wrong.

  She sat opposite and waited for him to speak first. The DCI looked her up and down. His scrutiny made her uneasy.

  “You look tired,” he said.

  “I haven’t slept much since this all started.”

  “And you’ll sleep even less if you’re selected to be a part of this team. Will that be a problem?”

  “I want to find out what this is all about.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “Good.” James opened up a file on the desk in front of him. “I see you’ve only been in this neck of the woods for a short time.”

  “I came here in January.”

  “From Edinburgh. How on earth did you end up in a Cornish police station?”

  “I needed to get away from Edinburgh. My husband was killed in a car accident last year.”

  “Right. And what makes you think you’ll be a fit for this team?”

  Taylor still had no idea what to say. She was not even sure if she wanted to be part of a team full of strangers, let alone work for someone who could pass over her husband’s death with “right.”

  “I want to get to the bottom of all of this,” she said at last. “Three elderly people have been killed in the space of a week. I’ve been here since the beginning, and I’ve been part of the enquiries so far. I know we haven’t found the answer yet, but I don’t think we can just discount all that work that’s already been done.”

  James typed something on his tablet. “Do you have any theories?” He looked her in the eyes.

  “One. It sounds a bit far-fetched but forty years ago, a wedding took place in Plymouth. Just four people were there, and three of them have died in the past week.”

  “Go on.” James sounded interested. “Whose wedding? Who’s the survivor?”

  “Alice Green. Both bride and survivor. She keeps bees in Polgarrow. It’s a small village to the south of here.”

  “I’m aware of it.”

  “The man found cut in half in the fishing net was Alice’s husband Stanley. Milly Lancaster was her maid of honour and Dennis Albarn was Stanley’s best man.”

  “Interesting.” James typed away. “And you think there’s some kind of connection there?”

  “I think it’s strange, that’s all. Four people attend a wedding forty years ago, then three of them are murdered in a week.”

  “I’m inclined to agree with you.” James stood up and looked out the window. “Killian has a nice view from his office. What do you think of Jack Killian?”

  “I like him. He’s a good DI. He’s fair and he gets stuck in. Everybody around here respects him.”

  “Did you speak to DI Killian about this wedding?”

  “Of course. He didn’t think there was anything to it.”

  She regretted the words as soon as they left her lips. She had a feeling she had just helped sign Killian’s death warrant.

  “I see,” James sat down again. “This is how it’s going to work. I’ve always advocated the benefits of a small team. You’ve got to have tight lines of communication for a successful murder investigation. Obviously, I’ll be heading up the team and all decisions taken will be passed through me first. DI Jane Carrick will be joining us from Exeter — she’s originally from London and has many years’ experience. DS Paul Southern and DC Phil Brown will be recruited for the groundwork. All in all, there’ll be five of us.”

  “Five?”

  “Unless you’d rather not join us.”

  “No. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

  “Good.” James reached over and shook her hand. “Welcome aboard. Any questions?”

  “Plenty.”

  “And they’ll be answered in due course. Now get a good night’s sleep. You’re going to need it. The officers from Exeter will be arriving this evening. We’ll assemble back here at 6 a.m. for a preliminary briefing. See you tomorrow. At six on the dot.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Killian had already left for the hospital by the time Taylor re-joined DS Duncan and Eric.

  “Is it me up next, then?” Duncan asked.

  “DCI James didn’t ask for you,” Taylor told him. “I think he’s finished with the interviews. He has the team he needs.”

  “So we’ve all been kicked aside?” said Eric. “This is bullshit.”

  “I’m on the team,” Taylor admitted. “It seems I’m the only one from Trotterdown he wants.”

  “You?” Duncan said. “And what makes you so special?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask to be picked.”

  “You’ve been here five minutes.” Duncan’s face was getting redder and redder.

  “It wasn’t my decision. James asked me a few questions, I answered them and he told me I was in.” She was starting to feel dizzy. She realised she hadn’t eaten anything all day.

  “Congratulations then,” Eric said. “What are the rest of us supposed to do in the meantime?”

  “Go home. Enjoy the weekend. I have to be back here at six tomorrow morning.”

  “How many are on the team? How many of the Exeter snobs are going to be swarming around our station?”

  “Only four, including DCI James. He reckons small groups tend to get better results.”

  “Good luck with that.” Duncan said and stomped out of the canteen.

  “Ignore him,” said Eric, “he’s just jealous. Well done. You’ll do all right. You do realise you’re going to piss a few people off around here, though, don’t you?”

  She did. She’d realised it the moment DCI James had shaken her hand. She would be seen as a traitor. She had only recently started to be accepted at Trotterdown station. Now she would be the outsider again.

  *

  She drove the long way home, taking the coast road along the edge of the cliffs. She needed some time to think things through. On her left, the Atlantic was a lighter blue than usual. Yachts had already set out on their weekend cruises and sails of all shapes and sizes were flapping in the light breeze. She couldn’t get Eric White’s words out of her mind. She knew exactly what was going to happen. She’d hear muttering every time she set foot in the station. It was going to be like Edinburgh all over again.

  Taylor suddenly remembered she’d run out of sleeping pills. She would need a good night’s sleep before the scheduled meeting the following day. She headed for Trotterdown centre and parked her car. Tourists ambled up and down the main walkway, apparently not looking for anything in particular. Youngsters walked in groups carrying bottles of wine and boxes of beer, no doubt gearing up for the weekend. To her relief the pharmacy was still open, but her heart sank when she saw a stranger wearing the pharmacist’s white coat.

  “Afternoon
,” Taylor said. “I have a prescription here. My name’s Harriet Taylor. I’m on the system. I’ve run out of sleeping tablets.”

  The young woman tapped a few keys on the keyboard and looked up at Taylor through a pair of rimless glasses.

  “Hmm,” she said. “This prescription has expired. You’ll need to speak to your doctor to arrange another one.”

  “I can’t. My doctor’s in Edinburgh.”

  “Then you’ll have to register with a doctor around here. You have to have a consultation first. You realise that these should only be used on a short-term basis?”

  “I can’t sleep,” Taylor said much more loudly than she meant to. A few customers turned round and stared at her.

  “I can’t sleep,” she repeated, much more softly this time, “please, I’ll register with another doctor when I have the chance. Mr Walsh knows me. He always lets me have them.”

  “I’ll tell you what.” The queue was growing. “I’ll renew it for you this time, but next time you’ll have to see a doctor. These tablets are nothing to play around with.”

  “Thank you.” Taylor’s heart was pounding in her ears. She watched as the woman opened up a jar of blue capsules and emptied about twenty into a small plastic packet.

  “You can’t stay on these forever,” the pharmacist told her. “The side effects can be very dangerous.”

  “I know. Just a few more weeks. I’ll register with a doctor as soon as I can.”

  *

  Taylor drove away from the town centre. She let out a huge sigh of relief. The pills were safely tucked away in the little box in her jacket pocket. The tension she had experienced in the pharmacy had scared her. I’m turning into an addict.

  As she approached her house, she was surprised by the white van outside — she’d completely forgotten that Alice Green was staying with her.

  When she walked in, a mouth-watering smell hit her. She was even hungrier than she’d realised.

  “Hello, dear,” Alice said. “Good day at work? I hope you don’t mind, but I thought the least I could do was cook you something nice. There wasn’t much in the freezer but I found a nice piece of gammon at the bottom.”