‘I want to talk to her again, and I’d like you to come with me.’
‘If you like.’ He sounded puzzled, but refrained from asking questions, merely asking, ‘When?’
‘As soon as possible. How about tomorrow morning?’
‘Okay. Pick me up at the office about ten.’
‘Thanks, Bruce. Good night.’ Melissa hung up with a sense of relief. It was so much easier dealing with a fellow creature when one was not emotionally involved.
Twenty-Four
The first time they visited the Romany camp, the weather had been fine and mild. Today the sky was overcast with a hint of rain borne on a cold, blustery wind. They located the vans without difficulty, directed by the farmer on whose land they were parked. ‘You the police? Not in any trouble, are they?’ the man asked. ‘I said they could stay and help with the potato picking until they moved on to Stow for the horse fair, but if there’s been any trouble …’
‘We aren’t the police,’ Bruce assured him. ‘And there’s been no trouble that I know of.’ Melissa remained silent. Whether or not a report had reached the Gazette of an elderly man being set upon two nights before by an anonymous gang she had no idea. If it had, and Bruce was aware of it, he had certainly not made a connection with the Hannah Rose inquiry and she had no intention of enlightening him … or the landowner. Without Dudley’s evidence, there was no action the police could take at present, although there was always the chance that at some future date a case could be made for attributing his death to his assailants on the grounds that the shock had precipitated the heart attack that killed him. That, however, would require positive identification of the culprits which in the circumstances would be very difficult, if not impossible, to come by. In the meantime, the Romanys presented no threat to anyone.
As before, Bruce parked his red Escort a short distance from the camp and they went the rest of the way on foot. There was no one in sight when they arrived at the clearing where the caravans and a few battered cars, including the one Rachel had used on her second visit to Hawthorn Cottage, were parked. Even the children were missing, but a dog chained to a tree barked as they approached and an elderly woman opened the top section of the door of the nearest caravan and eyed them suspiciously. Like Rachel, she was handsome, with aquiline features and black hair. Her attitude was far from friendly as she asked, ‘Who are you and what is your business?’
‘We’ve come to see Rachel,’ said Melissa with a friendly smile which was not returned. The woman continued to stare for several seconds, her dark eyes darting to and fro between Melissa and Bruce. Then, without looking away, she called over her shoulder and the next moment Rachel appeared beside her. She looked tired and dispirited; the collar of her blouse was awry and several wisps of hair hung loosely round her face. She appeared startled at the sign of the newcomers, but did not speak.
‘Good morning, Rachel,’ said Melissa. ‘This is my friend, Bruce. You remember him, I’m sure. He came with me before and played with the children.’
‘I remember.’ Rachel’s eyes moved briefly to Bruce and back again as she asked, ‘What brings you here?’
‘I have news for you, about your niece.’
‘About Hannah?’ The two gipsy women exchanged glances.
‘Yes. We thought you would like to know that the person responsible for her death is being interviewed by the police. The man who took her away did not harm her, but he has committed other crimes for which he will certainly be punished.’
Rachel bowed her head and murmured, ‘I am glad. Thank you for telling us.’ The older woman put an arm round her shoulder and said something in her own tongue. Then, in a deliberate gesture of dismissal, she drew Rachel back into the van and closed the door.
‘Is that it?’ said Bruce in a low tone.
‘It looks like it.’ They waited for a short time, but the women did not reappear. Slowly, they walked back to the car.
‘Thank you for coming with me,’ said Melissa as she fastened her seat belt. She leaned against the head restraint and closed her eyes. ‘It’s not that I was expecting trouble, but I thought it might get emotional and I’ve had about all I can take—’
‘No need to explain. I quite understand.’
Melissa gave a faint smile. ‘I don’t think you do,’ she said.
Bruce gave her a sideways glance. ‘Is there something you haven’t told me?’
‘Well, yes … but I’d rather keep it to myself for now … or at any rate, until after the trial. And if ever I do tell you, it will be strictly off the record.’
Ken Harris made no reference to the Hannah Rose case when he arrived at Hawthorn Cottage a little after six that evening. Either he had not heard of the latest developments, or he had decided to let the matter drop rather than risk starting another argument.
To Melissa’s surprise, he did not kiss her, but stood waiting while she closed the door behind him and then followed her into the sitting-room and remained standing as if he was visiting the house for the first time.
‘Are we going out straight away?’ she asked curiously.
‘No. I’ve made our reservation at seven for seven-thirty.’
‘Well, don’t just stand there. What can I get you to drink?’
‘Nothing for the moment, thanks,’ he said. ‘Will you sit down, Melissa? I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘What is it?’ Feeling a little uneasy, she went to her favourite armchair while Ken, as usual, took an upright one facing her.
‘I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this,’ he began, ‘but some years ago, before I was promoted to Chief Inspector, I spent six months with the New York Police Department on an exchange arrangement, shadowing one of their officers and observing their methods. The following year, Hal Hislop – he was my opposite number – came to England and spent the same length of time attached to the Gloucestershire Force.’
Melissa shook her head. ‘No, I’m sure you’ve never mentioned it,’ she said. ‘Why are you telling me now?’
‘We struck up a friendship and we’ve kept in touch on and off ever since. By coincidence, we both retired within a few months of each other and we both set up as private investigators.’
‘And?’
‘I had a letter from him a couple of days or so ago. He’s asked me to go into partnership with him.’
‘In New York?’
‘That’s right.’
‘It’s a bit sudden, isn’t it?’
‘It’s not entirely a new idea. We’ve referred to it once or twice over the years, but until now I don’t think either of us thought it would ever become a practical possibility. Now it has. Hal’s becoming known as a guy who gets results and his case-load is mushrooming.’ Ken got up and walked across to the window, stood for a moment gazing out at the view with his hands in his pockets, then swung round and took up a position in the middle of the room, rocking on his heels and looking down at Melissa. ‘He’s already taken on a junior assistant to help with routine stuff, but now he needs someone with experience at the coal-face and he reckons I fit the bill.’ He gave one of his rare chuckles. ‘In more ways than one, eh? Sorry about the pun!’
Melissa had seen Ken Harris in many different roles, from hard-nosed detective doing his job with single-minded determination to loyal friend and tender, passionate or – especially recently – angrily possessive lover. She had until now believed herself to be familiar with all his moods, but this evening he was revealing a side of himself that was new to her. Never before, even when he was painting a glowing picture of the life they could enjoy together if she would agree to marry him, had he shown such animation. She had always found him inclined to be slow in his movements and ponderous in his manner; this evening there was a spring in his step as he moved about the room, a sparkle in his eyes and a ring of enthusiasm, as he outlined his friend’s proposal, in the slightly gruff voice that she had once likened to oily sandpaper.
‘You’re dead keen on the idea, aren’t you?’
she said.
‘Yes, I am. I thoroughly enjoyed working with Hal … and PIs in the States have access to far more interesting cases than in England. I’d need a licence, of course, but Hal reckons he can arrange that.’ As suddenly as he had leapt from his chair, he sat down again and leaned forward, taking one of her hands between both his own. ‘What do you say, Mel? We could find a house somewhere upstate … some parts of it are quite rural, I’m told … and you’d be able to see Simon more often … you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
Perversely, Melissa felt a stab of irritation at the final words. Something in his tone made the prospect of living closer to her son sound like a sweetener, a bribe of candy offered to a reluctant child. ‘We see one another fairly often as it is,’ she pointed out. ‘He spends a lot of time away from home on business trips anyway … as it happens, he’s coming to London at the end of the month.’
‘Oh … well, that’s great.’ Ken appeared to find her reply disconcerting. He let go of her hand and sat back in his chair. ‘Look,’ he said in a wheedling tone, ‘I realise this must have taken you by surprise, and it wouldn’t be fair to expect you to make a decision right away. Let’s give it another day or two, shall we?’
‘I don’t think there’s any need for that. You’ve obviously made up your mind to accept Hal’s offer—’
‘It’s a great opportunity …’
This was the moment she had been dreading for the past seven days. The moment of truth. ‘Then go ahead, if you’re sure it’s what you really want,’ she said gently. ‘But I shan’t be coming with you, Ken … and I wouldn’t marry you, or live with you, even if you were to stay in England.’
The animation in his manner faded. There was a blend of disappointment and resignation in his expression as he said in a quiet, rather flat voice, ‘I don’t think I ever seriously believed you would.’
‘We’ve had some great times together, Ken. I hope we can stay friends.’ How trite this sounds, like something out of a cheap romance. But what else can one say?
‘Sure we can.’
Bruce telephoned the following morning, shortly after Melissa had finished her breakfast. ‘Got something to tell you,’ he said. His tone indicated that he was about to impart some particularly momentous news, and her natural curiosity was increased by the slightly self-conscious note underlying a barely suppressed excitement.
‘I hope it’s good news,’ she said. ‘I can do with some.’
‘The very best.’ His voice took on an earnest quality. ‘Penny and I are engaged. Isn’t it wonderful?’ She felt the warmth of his happiness flowing like sunshine along the wire, almost bringing a lump to her throat.
‘Well, congratulations!’ She was about to add some jocular remark about Penny having her hands full keeping him in order, but held it back. It would have been inappropriate in the face of such sincere, simple joy.
‘We told my parents last night, but we wanted you to be among the first of our friends to know. The wedding will be quite soon and we hope you’ll be able to come.’
‘I’d be delighted.’
‘And of course, Ken Harris as well if—’
‘If we’re still an item,’ Melissa broke in, with a slightly bitter laugh. ‘As it happens, we aren’t. He’s been offered a job as a PI in the States … he asked me to go with him, but I said no.’ She could hear her voice cracking and felt a fool.
‘I’m sorry,’ Bruce said gently. ‘That is …’
Something that had been puzzling her suddenly became clear. ‘Bruce, the other night, as we were leaving the Lamb and Shearling, you started to say something about giving me advice, and then backed off. It wouldn’t have had anything to do with Ken, would it?’ When Bruce did not immediately respond, she went on, ‘Were you by any chance thinking of warning me against getting too heavily involved?’
‘Well, yes, in a way,’ Bruce admitted. ‘I’ve had the feeling all along that he wasn’t … wasn’t special enough for you … I know it would have been a bit of a cheek on my part … and anyway I didn’t know how to put it—’
‘You’ve just put it beautifully, thank you,’ she said. She gave a shaky laugh and felt the sun come out again. ‘And it’s wonderful news about you and Penny. I’m sure you’ll both be very happy … and Kirsty will have a super Dad.’
‘Bless you. Talk to you again soon.’
Melissa felt her spirits lifting as she put down the phone and went next door. She found Iris in her kitchen, preparing a nut roast for Sunday lunch while Jack could be seen through the window picking runner beans.
‘So that makes two weddings,’ Iris commented on learning of Bruce’s engagement. She gave Melissa a searching look. ‘You and Ken going to make it three?’
‘No.’ Somewhat to her surprise, Melissa managed to tell the story without emotion. Iris’s reaction was equally unexpected.
‘You’ve done the right thing,’ she said firmly. ‘Especially now he’s off to play cops and robbers with his American buddy. Wasn’t going to push you one way or the other, but …’
‘From what you said a few days ago, I thought you were all for my marrying him.’
‘Didn’t mean it like that. Thought it was time you made up your mind what you wanted, that’s all. Easy to let things drift till it’s too late.’
And you weren’t the only one to have doubts, thought Melissa, remembering the conversation with Bruce. Aloud, she said, ‘I’m going to miss Ken like hell for a while, though. And about the cottage—’
‘Forget it. Decided not to sell after all. Might rent it out on short lets for the holidays, but we’ll need a base in England if it doesn’t work out in France.’
‘It’ll work out, I’m sure of it.’
‘Hope so.’ Iris packed her nut roast into a tin and smoothed the surface with a knife. ‘You’ll stay for lunch? I’ll get Jack to do a few more veg.’
‘Please.’ Melissa hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘Iris, about your wedding …’
‘What about it?’
‘Ken will probably be in New York by then, but even if he isn’t …’
‘Wouldn’t want to come in the circs, I suppose.’
‘I’m not sure I’d want him to anyway.’
‘Understandable.’ Iris covered the tin with aluminium foil, placed it in a bain-marie and bent down to slide it into the oven.
‘But neither do I want to be an odd one out.’
‘Quite.’
‘I was wondering … would it be all right if I asked Joe … just to keep me company, of course?’
‘Of course.’ Iris straightened up and closed the oven door. The expression on her face reminded Melissa of Binkie after he had enjoyed a particularly tasty meal. ‘I was going to suggest it,’ she said.
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Books by Betty Rowlands
THE MELISSA CRAIG SERIES
Murder at Hawthorn Cottage
Murder in the Morning
Murder on the Clifftops
Murder at the Manor Hotel
Murder on a Winter Afternoon
Murder in the Orchard
Murder at Larkfield Barn
Murder in Langley Woods
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Murder at Hawthorn Cottage
A Melissa Craig Mystery Book 1
Get it here!
Meet Melissa: cat lover, caring mother… daring detective?
Melissa Craig is absolutely delighted with her new life in an old crumbling cottage, spending her days pruning the primroses and getting to know Binkie, the ginger cat next door. She only wishes she had made the move to the countryside sooner.
But when a knock at the door brings news of a shocking discovery, she suddenly finds herself thrown in to the middle of a baffling mystery: the bones of a young woman have been found in the woods just behind her new home.
Perhaps the little village of Upper Benbury is not as idyllic as it first seemed?
Strange phone calls in the night convince Melissa that the police are barking up completely the wrong tree, so she can’t resist doing a little digging of her own. From the bingo hall to the beauty salon and beyond, her search ruffles a few feathers and uncovers many of the village’s most scandalous secrets, but gets her no closer to finding the culprit…
The discovery of a tatty old photograph in a drawer is the final piece of the puzzle she needs, but as a newcomer in this close-knit community, does Melissa have what it takes to get to the bottom of this extraordinary murder mystery alone?
A joy to read! An absolutely unputdownable whodunnit for fans of Agatha Christie, P.D. James and Faith Martin.
Murder in Langley Woods Page 24
