“Things are never normal. You have to accept that there will always be something new happening. Don’t get old before your time.”
She checked her watch. “Here goes. Wish me luck.”
“I wish I could be there, but James made it totally clear I’m not welcome.”
“You’re lucky. And I’m still not so sure this is all over.”
She left Killian looking slightly perplexed. It was still early when she got to the conference room but James and the other Exeter detectives were already behind the desk and the press officer was starting to look slightly frantic. She slid in at the end, beside DS Southern.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” James hissed. He looked extremely polished. Taylor was pretty sure he was wearing foundation.
“It’s not six yet.”
The room started to fill up. It looked as if there were journalists from every newspaper and news channel. The press officer switched on the microphones and nodded to the speakers.
“Good evening.” Superintendent Lemon cleared his throat. “Thank you all for coming. I’ll keep this brief. The man of the moment, DCI Warren James, will provide you with all the information you need in due course. I’m sure you’re all aware of the protocol. Any questions you have will be answered at the end. Over to you, Warren.”
“Thank you.” Warren James leaned forward to his microphone.
Taylor could feel the eyes — not to speak of the cameras of scores — panning the desk. Pigs, she thought, they’re all pigs with beady eyes and long snouts. She looked at a man in the front row and did her best to picture him snuffling in the trough. It helped a bit.
“Good evening, everybody,” James began, “I’m sure you’re all aware of the tragic events of recent days. The small peaceful village of Polgarrow is still mourning the loss of three of its elderly residents.”
He paused for effect. It was obviously a rehearsed tactic. The journalists leaned forward, eager to hear what he was going to say next.
“Three elderly people have died,” he continued, “all in the space of a week and all under suspicious circumstances. The Trotterdown police department pleaded for our help.”
Pleaded? Taylor gritted her teeth as he took them slowly through the whole story, trying not to wince or look dubious as he explained exactly why Albarn was the murderer. Finally, he finished and smiled at the crowd. “We’ve cleared up this investigation, and I trust the community can sleep easy again.” He looked around the room.
What’s he waiting for? Taylor thought. A round of applause?
“I’m sure you all have questions,” James went on, “but first I would like to introduce you to the team who made this all possible. If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t be here in front of you today.” He gestured to Taylor and the detectives from Exeter. Taylor wanted the ground to swallow her up. She couldn’t remember a time when she had felt more uncomfortable.
“DI Carrick,” James said, “DS Southern, DC Brown and Trotterdown’s own DC Taylor. It was a pleasure working with you.”
Taylor prayed the journalists were not going to give them a round of applause.
“Any questions?” James asked before they had a chance.
“DCI James,” the man Taylor had pictured as a pig said. “George Harrow, West Country Herald. How’s the relationship between Exeter and Trotterdown, now that you’ve had to come to their rescue?”
James paused for a moment and then picked up smoothly. “I wouldn’t say ‘rescue.’ We enjoyed their support throughout this investigation. My team are — how can I put it — way ahead in the experience stakes when it comes to this type of crime, that’s all.”
“Could I ask DC Taylor if she feels the same way?” He looked at Taylor.
“Of course,” James said. She tried to look calm.
“DC Taylor, what was it like to abandon your colleagues and jump to another side? How do your workmates feel about you being the only one from Trotterdown chosen to work on the investigation?”
“As far as I’m aware,” Taylor said as steadily as she could, “this was not an individual crusade. We’ve all been working together to bring the investigation to a conclusion. As far as I’m concerned, this was a team effort. It’s never been about individual glory.”
“Not even for DCI James?”
“Not even for DCI James.”
James was clearly trying to suppress a look of fury, and DS Southern one of distinct amusement. Taylor smiled as blandly as she could.
The questions moved on to the other details of the case. Taylor was exhausted by the end of it. At least Killian had been spared the press conference, and James’ barely-disguised hints at his incompetence. Taylor hoped the journalists would leave that part out of their stories.
“That went well,” James told his team before being dragged off for the cameras.
“You can keep the glory,” Taylor said. “As far as I’m concerned we were just doing what they pay us to do.”
“Come on, you need to be able to maximise an opportunity like this! How do you think I worked my way up?”
Narcissistic tendencies? Taylor thought to herself. “I have to go,” she announced. “As of now, I’m officially on leave for two weeks. It was interesting working with you.”
She walked away before they said anything.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Harriet Taylor woke up from a dreamless sleep to the sound of rain beating down on the roof. Something was bothering her. DCI James and his team would no doubt be back in Exeter by now, wallowing in the glory of a successful investigation and spreading stories about the incompetence of the Trotterdown police department. The case was closed and it was all over.
But Dennis Albarn hadn’t killed Milly Lancaster and Stanley Green.
She went down and made coffee, enjoying the luxury of a late morning in her dressing-gown. Rain lashed against the window and she found she was rather enjoying that too. Tomorrow morning she’d be on a flight, and then onto the boat that would take her up the Nile. Ten days discovering a new place was exactly what she needed. For now, she had a couple of hours to kill before the lunch with Alice Green and nobody to tell her what to do. She went upstairs to run a bath.
*
A couple of hours later, she knocked on Alice’s door. The rain had cleared and she felt distinctly cheerful. They might not have cleared up the case to her complete satisfaction, but she was determined to put it behind her. Perhaps they’d been right after all.
Alice called her through to the back garden, where the bees were buzzing back and forth from the hollyhock bushes to the hives. They looked extremely busy.
“They’re back to normal,” Alice said. “They had me worried for a while when they were making that honey that wasn’t quite right.”
“Is there much to beekeeping? It looks quite complicated.”
“There’s nothing to it. The bees do most of the work for me. My bees are Italian and rather slothful but I like them that way. I’ll show you.”
She approached the hives and lifted off the first frame. Taylor stood back cautiously.
“They won’t hurt you. They die if they sting and they know it.”
Taylor moved a step closer and watched the beekeeper slide a sheet of honeycomb out of the frame.
“That’s better. I’ll have plenty for market at this rate.” She slid the honeycomb back and then suddenly winced.
“Are you all right?” Taylor asked.
“Little bugger stung me. It happens sometimes. It’s not serious. I have some bicarb solution in the drawer in the kitchen. Would you be a love and fetch it for me? There’s some cotton wool in there too. It’s starting to throb now.”
Taylor went inside and opened the drawer in the kitchen. She rummaged around and found the bicarb solution. It was in a small, clearly labelled bottle. The cotton wool was harder to track down. She opened the drawer wider and finally found it underneath a packet of plasters. She was about to close the drawer when something caught her ey
e. It was a gold wedding ring and it looked like a man’s one.
Taylor picked it up and took a closer look. The initials S. and A. and the numbers 14-6-75 were etched on the inside.
Stanley and Alice, Taylor thought. This is Stanley Green’s wedding ring. What’s her husband’s wedding ring doing in the drawer?
She suddenly felt sick. Stanley Green’s ring finger had been missing when they found his body.
Think fast. What’s going on here?
She put the ring back in the drawer and was about to close it when she got the feeling that somebody was watching her.
“Did you find it, love?” Alice stood in the doorway.
“I’ve got it here.” Taylor closed the door. Had Alice seen her find the ring? She handed Alice the bee-sting solution and the cotton wool.
“Are you all right, Harriet?” Alice asked. “You look a bit pale. I’m the one who was stung.”
“I’m fine,” Taylor said. “It must be the past few weeks catching up with me. The cruise will do me good.”
“I’m sure it will.” Alice looked at Taylor and then at the kitchen drawer. She dabbed some bicarbonate of soda on the sting and put the bottle on the kitchen counter. “The food’s ready.”
“It smells delicious.”
It did, but Taylor felt quite sick at the prospect of eating anything. “Could I just use your bathroom first?”
“First door on the right.” Alice pointed towards the corridor.
Taylor locked the door, sat on the edge of the bath and took a deep breath. She tried to think of a reasonable explanation why Alice might have the ring in her kitchen drawer. Perhaps Stanley had merely given it back to her, but then what about the missing ring finger? Perhaps it was Alice’s, but it looked too big, and Alice wore a similar gold band on her ring finger. She flushed the toilet and took out her phone. She brought up Killian’s number and paused, thinking hard.
What am I doing? This is ridiculous. Alice Green is an elderly beekeeper. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. She put the phone back in her pocket and went back to the table.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Alice told her. “I thought seeing as though you’re not going to be at work for two weeks, you might join me in a glass of port. I know you don’t usually drink but this is a special occasion, isn’t it?”
“One glass won’t hurt me. Thank you. This looks delicious.”
“Take a seat. I’ll carve the beef.”
She slid out a chair and Taylor sat down. She watched as Alice carefully sliced into the meat. The knife looked extremely sharp. She put three slices on Taylor’s plate.
“Help yourself to some vegetables. I’ve got some gravy on the boil too.”
She tore off a piece of fat and slid it into the bottom of the jackdaw’s cage. The bird eyed it suspiciously, pecked at it and gobbled it up in one go.
“Easy, boy, you don’t want to choke yourself.”
“Morning,” the jackdaw replied.
Alice put the gravy boat on the table and sat down.
“Cheers.” She raised the port to her lips and took a sip. “This is the bottle you bought me,” Alice told her. “It’s a very nice one.”
“Happy birthday for yesterday.” Taylor took a sip of her own. She wasn’t used to port, and it had a rather odd taste, but it was quite pleasant. “Here’s to many more.”
“Thank you, dear. Now tuck in.”
The port had gone straight to Taylor’s head. She needed to eat something, pretty quickly, to neutralise the alcohol. She ate some beef. “This is delicious.”
“It’s a rare treat for me to have you here. I don’t often have guests. I say you have to make the most of the company you can get at my age.”
“You’re not that old.” Taylor’s head was starting to spin. She had almost finished the port.
“I’m old enough. Old enough to know what’s important.”
“And what’s that?” Taylor was feeling quite drunk now. Her own voice sounded slurred.
“The status quo. Keeping things normal. That’s what’s important. As you get older and you start to count the days you have left and you do what you can to make sure you keep things the same.”
“You’re probably right.” For some reason she’d started to giggle. “Sorry, this port has gone right to my head.”
“It’s all right, love. It does you good to let go once in a while.”
Taylor could see two plates of food in front of her now. Her eyelids sagged.
“Aren’t you hungry?” Alice asked her. “You’ve barely touched your food.”
“I feel strange. Suddenly very tired.”
Her legs were now starting to go numb. Alice stood up and stared at her. The expression on her face was quite disturbing. It was a mixture of sympathy and something darker which Taylor couldn’t put her finger on. She had never seen Alice look like this before.
“You saw the ring, didn’t you?”
“What?” It was hard even to say that. It was taking all her energy just to stay conscious.
“Stanley’s ring. You saw it in the drawer, didn’t you?”
“No. No, I didn’t.”
“Liar. I won’t have liars in my house.”
“I think I’d better be going. I don’t feel well.”
“You’ll go when I say so,” Alice said. “I can’t have anything upsetting the status quo. It was all a bit of a blur at first but when Milly saw Stanley’s wedding ring, it all started to come back. But then I knew a clever girl like you was always going to do a bit of poking around. Did you enjoy the port?”
Taylor stared at the empty glass. “What have you done?”
Alice took out a bunch of keys and put them on the table. Taylor recognised her spare set. “You have trouble sleeping, don’t you?”
Through the fog in her head, Taylor realised she’d been right about the missing sleeping tablets. How many had gone missing? Eight? Ten?
“Why?”
Alice watched her. “I didn’t mean to kill him, you know. They ran around like headless chickens but none of them had a clue. It was quite funny. I can’t have you ruining everything for me now. You’re a clever one, Harriet Taylor, you’d have figured it out sooner or later. You did it sooner, but that isn’t going to be a problem now.”
“What do you mean?”
“You won’t feel a thing. You really ought to wean yourself off those pills, you know. They’ll be the death of you.”
“Alice.” Taylor’s mouth was now incredibly dry. She was starting to drift off and she knew there was no way she could stop herself. She tried to concentrate and stay awake but it was no use. She could only just make out someone coming into the kitchen.
“Alice,” she heard Eddie Sedgewick say, “that’s enough. This can’t carry on. Let’s have a cup of tea and a chat.”
Taylor watched, like she was in a dream, as Alice stood up, picked up the carving knife and went towards her next-door neighbour. Taylor tried to get up but her legs refused to obey her. She saw Eddie’s mouth open but the words that came out made no sense. She saw Eddie pick up a frying pan from the sink and then everything went black.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
“Welcome back, sleepyhead,” DI Jack Killian said.
Taylor opened her eyes and flinched. The bright light hurt her. She looked at Killian and frowned.
“Where am I?” she croaked.
“Truro. You’re in hospital. You gave us quite a fright back there.”
“What day is it?”
“Wednesday. You were out for almost twenty-four hours.”
“Where’s Alice?” Flashes of what had happened at the old beekeeper’s house started to come back to her.
“She’s down at the station.”
“What happened?”
“We got a call from a man called Eddie Sedgwick. He kept babbling on about something terrible happening at Alice Green’s house. We got there as soon as we could. Eddie had a nasty knife wound to his shoulder. Alice was lying on the kitche
n floor and you were unconscious at the dining table.”
“What about Alice? She killed those three people.”
“I know. She made a full confession. She’ll be charged with the murders of Stanley Green, Milly Lancaster and Dennis Albarn, as well as the attempted murder of Eddie Sedgwick.”
“Is Eddie all right?”
“He’ll be fine. He’s quite handy with a frying pan.”
“So it was — oh, I can’t work this out.” Taylor sat up in the bed and her vision went black for a few seconds. “So it was Alice, after all?”
“She told us everything. She killed Stanley Green by accident. Hit him with a shovel in a fit of rage. She panicked and buried his body in her garden and then somehow his hand worked its way out of the ground. Milly Lancaster saw it and she had to be silenced.”
“What about Dennis Albarn?”
“He met up with Stanley the day before he was killed so he could’ve talked. When word got out that it was Stanley in the fishing nets, Alice had to shut Albarn up for good. She kept going on about the status quo and how it had to be preserved. She’s a few bob short of a pound note, if you ask me.”
“I still don’t understand. How did she do it? She had us all fooled.”
“She had DCI James fooled. He’s not going to like this. He’s been parading around in public saying all sorts of things about the Trotterdown police department and now he’s going to come across as an idiot. Flummoxed by an old beekeeper.”
Taylor smiled. That’s one consolation, she thought.
“We got it all out of her. After Milly saw the finger, Alice had to act quickly. She suggested they go for a sunset trip up to Merryhead. They’d done it a few times before, so Milly didn’t think there was anything amiss. They went in Milly’s car. Alice bashed her brains in with a rock, jammed the locks and pushed the car over the cliff with Milly in it.”
“And then she walked home? It’s five miles.”
“She’s in good shape. She hid the screwdriver she used to jam the locks in Peter Sugden’s bin and said just enough to make us suspect Sugden. The body in the garden was bothering her so she chopped it in half with a shovel and chucked the two pieces over Merryhead. It should have all worked out just fine for her, except that the fisherman was lucky enough to drag up the body in his nets.”
THE BEEKEEPER a gripping crime mystery with a dark twist Page 18
