The Cipher Garden

by Martin Edwards

  ‘Don’t be so fucking stupid.’

  ‘They’ll keep asking questions.’

  ‘Hey, if you don’t give me away, I’m safe.’ His voice softened and in a heartbeat he became the brother she dreamed of. ‘I’m depending on you, Kirsty. All right?’

  Tina Howe was on her own in the office when Hannah arrived, scanning in photographs of a newly completed garden project. Peter Flint was working over in Hawkshead with Sam, she said, so she was catching up while she had peace and quiet. Her composure was as immaculate as her black business suit. Versace, Armani? Hannah hadn’t a clue; the closest she came to designer-wear was leafing through the colour supplements. No one could doubt that this was Tina’s domain, that she was in charge. She nodded Hannah towards a chair with crisp authority, as if greeting a tedious sales rep.

  ‘Matter of fact, Chief Inspector, I was wondering when you might show your face.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Kirsty called half an hour ago, told me you’d spoken to her about Warren’s murder. I guessed you’d make this your next stop.’ Tina glared. ‘She’s in a right state.’

  ‘We only talked for a few minutes, but I’m sorry if she’s upset.’

  ‘It’s hard for her, she was very close to her father, she went to hell and back after he died.’

  Hannah gave a no-harm-done smile. Tina’s agenda couldn’t have been clearer if typed out in bold twenty-point capitals. The family were victims, not suspects. Put a foot wrong and complaints would come flying in to Lauren.

  ‘When she’s slept on our conversation, I’m sure she’ll appreciate that it’s in everyone’s interest for us to review the case. We owe it to you and your family, Mrs Howe. You deserve justice. So does your late husband.’

  Tina raised thick dark eyebrows. She wasn’t conventionally attractive, yet you scarcely noticed that. For most men, the revealing blouse, short skirt and musky perfume would make up for a lot.

  ‘Why now? What’s woken up the guardians of justice?’

  Don’t let her needle you, Hannah told herself. This isn’t the sort of women who likes members of her own sex. Let alone female police officers.

  ‘I explained to your daughter that we’ve received additional information about the case.’

  ‘An anonymous letter?’

  Hannah leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk that formed a barrier between them, cupping her chin in her hands. Invading Tina’s space.

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’

  ‘Sorry, Mrs Howe, I can’t comment on that. But I would like to know why you mentioned an anonymous letter.’

  Tina put her hands behind her head and breathed out. Hannah guessed it was a well-practised pose. Never mind the horsy jaw, Tina exuded confidence. If she’d let something slip by mistake, she wasn’t going to let it bother her. She’d seen the police off years ago, she could do it again. Hannah half expected a couple of buttons on the silk blouse to pop.

  ‘I received one myself this week.’

  ‘Concerning the death of your husband?’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘What did it say?’

  ‘Can’t remember the exact words, it was only a sentence.’

  ‘I’d have thought it would stick in your mind.’

  ‘Frankly, I only glanced at the thing for a couple of seconds.’ Tina shrugged. ‘Did it say I was a murdering bitch? I’m not sure. Something like that.’

  Too smooth, Hannah thought, too much like a disdainful actress, rolling out well-rehearsed lines. Yet why would anyone fib about such an accusation, the same accusation made in the tip-off letter?

  ‘May I see it?’

  Tina clicked her tongue. ‘Really, Chief Inspector. You don’t think I would keep garbage like that? I tore the letter up and put it in our shredder at home.’

  ‘Was the letter typed?’

  ‘Handwritten. A sort of stencilling. I didn’t check the postmark, I presume it was local.’

  ‘Who do you think might have sent it?’

  ‘No idea.’

  Not true, Hannah thought, looking at Tina’s narrowed eyes and the way her lips compressed, as if striving to keep a secret.

  ‘Why would anyone send such a letter to you?’

  ‘I’m not a psychiatrist, Chief Inspector. There are a lot of sick people in the world, you must know that better than me. Mind you, the police don’t seem very effective when it comes to making sure they are put somewhere they can’t do any harm.’

  ‘You said at the time that you and your children were up on the Hardknott Pass at the time of your husband’s murder.’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘Any points in your original statement that you’d like to clarify with the benefit of hindsight?’

  ‘Absolutely none.’

  ‘Your husband had an affair with Gail Flint.’

  Tina snorted with laughter. ‘For goodness sake, Chief Inspector, you’re going to have to understand my husband better. He had lots of affairs and we never discussed one. They meant nothing to him and so they meant nothing to me.’

  ‘Who do you think killed him?’

  ‘I rather thought it was your job to tell me that.’

  ‘You must have turned it over in your mind.’

  ‘You think it’s so simple, do you, Chief Inspector Scarlett? I suppose you believe you can walk into people’s lives and throw them into turmoil and then come up with a solution, neatly packed for the media. Fast-tracked for promotion, are you?’

  If only you knew. ‘Are you saying that you don’t have the faintest idea who might have wanted to kill your husband?’

  ‘Ah, that’s a different question, isn’t it? Fact is, it could have been anyone. A scorned woman, an enraged husband. Warren was careless, that was his downfall. He didn’t mind whoever he hurt. I can only assume he hurt the wrong person and paid the price. A terrible price, but people do terrible things in this world. Don’t you agree?’

  ‘Simple as that? Person or persons unknown?’

  ‘Well, yes. It will be to do with shagging the wrong woman at the wrong time, if you ask me. When it came to sex, he was insatiable. Believe me, jealousy didn’t come into it, I was almost relieved whenever someone else took a turn, it meant I got let off a bit more lightly. But I’ll tell you this. Those other women, they would never have had the balls to stay the course with Warren.’

  Her head tilted upwards, as if she took pride in having married a Casanova. How could any woman keep so cool when confronted with her man’s infidelity? Hannah’s thoughts flitted back to Marc’s confession of a long ago dalliance with Leigh Moffatt’s sister and her own scorching sense of humiliation.

  ‘So you can’t confirm that the relationship ended shortly before your husband was killed?’

  ‘Sorry. You’ll have to interrogate Gail.’

  ‘Ironic that you are now in a relationship with Mr Flint.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake. He’s a free agent.’ Tina smirked. ‘A consenting adult.’

  ‘How has Mrs Flint reacted to your relationship?’

  Tina picked up a pencil and started doodling on the pad in front of her. It was hard to tell what she was sketching. Perhaps a bed of roses.

  ‘You’d better ask him, I try not to have anything to do with her.’

  ‘Thanks, I will.’

  ‘He’ll be back in half an hour. Feel free to hang on here, if you don’t mind my getting on with my work. But remember this. Peter’s marriage was dead before he and I got together.’

  ‘Is that right?’

  ‘What are you implying, Chief Inspector?’

  ‘Just asking a question, Mrs Howe.’

  Tina stabbed the pad so hard with her pencil that its point broke. She tossed it into a black plastic desk tidy beside the computer monitor. Her screensaver, Hannah saw, was a group of well-oiled bodybuilders in tight tigerskin pants, flexing their muscles in a variety of leering poses. Perhaps her late husband wasn’t the only Howe w
hose appetite was insatiable.

  ‘I must remember, you’re only doing your job. You don’t mean to be offensive.’

  Hannah said nothing. If the woman wanted a battle of wills, fine.

  ‘Only, I wonder if you have any idea what it’s like, Chief Inspector? Having your husband murdered? How would you feel in my shoes, if you came home one day to be greeted by a pair of young constables who told you that your man was dead? And not just dead, but butchered? Cut up like an animal in a bloody abattoir?’

  There was a catch in her voice, but no tears. The face powder and blue eye shadow made a good mask. Impossible to gauge whether this came from the heart or was a performance worthy of an Academy Award. Hannah waited.

  ‘I’ll tell you what it’s like, then. It’s utterly horrible. Whatever Warren did wrong in his life – and he did plenty – he didn’t deserve that.’

  ‘Which is why I ask questions. I don’t mean to be intrusive, but I would like to know when your relationship began with Mr Flint.’

  Tina gazed straight at her. Wondering what to say next? When she shrugged, Hannah exulted inside.

  ‘All right. The truth is this. Peter and I liked each other from the start. He is so different from Warren. A breath of fresh air. But I didn’t think he’d be interested in me. Tarty Tina, put-upon wife of Jack the Lad. After all, he had a good-looking wife of his own, even if she is as tough as granite. It was a long time before I realised he had any feelings for me. Even longer before he did anything about them. Worse luck.’

  ‘And you say this was after your husband was killed?’

  ‘Long after. The murder – knocked us all sideways. You don’t come to terms with something like that in five minutes.’

  Hannah wasn’t convinced. But Tina Howe wasn’t going to confess this afternoon. She’d cracked a little, but she’d take time to break.

  Kirsty pounded up the path to the front door of Keepsake Cottage and leaned on the bell while she fought to regain her breath. Her sweat-soaked T-shirt was clinging to her, her calves ached, the soles of her feet were screaming. She hadn’t stopped running ever since she’d set off from The Heights. A long way, but she ought to be fitter than this, with a jump imminent. She needed to make sense of things before it was too late. This morning she’d read her stars in the Daily Mirror. They were uncannily to the point. You are going to make a decision that will change your life. It’s now or never.

  De Quincey was barking inside the cottage. She kept pressing the bell. Roz must be at home, her car was parked in the drive. She glanced around, waving a cloud of midges away from her face. Her father had been killed here, but she’d never made a pilgrimage to the scene of the crime. Keepsake Cottage was a private home and besides, she’d wanted only to forget what had happened.

  After what seemed like an hour, the door swung open. Thank God, it was Roz. She must have been washing her hair. Although she’d wrapped a fluffy towel round her head, a few drops of water were running down her cheeks. She had on a white cotton top and fraying shorts that revealed a wedge of cellulite. At the sight of Kirsty, her eyes opened wide.

  ‘Kirsty! Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine. Just give me a moment.’

  ‘You look as though you’ve been training for the marathon.’

  ‘I’ve run over from The Heights.’

  ‘But what on earth brings you here? I mean we’ve never…’

  ‘There’s something I need to talk to you about. Please, can we go inside and talk? I hate to bother you, but I’ve been mulling this over in my mind and you’re the one person who can help me. You can tell me what to do.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand.’

  A thought slapped Kirsty. ‘Is Chris in?’

  ‘No, he’s out in Kendal, talking to someone who runs a folk club. I’m not expecting him back for an hour, longer if he gets engrossed.’

  ‘Thank goodness. We can talk in private.’

  ‘Talk about what?’

  ‘Do you mind if we go in? You see, the thing is, I need to ask you a favour, a big, big favour. Look, I’m ever so sorry to disturb you. I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t desperate. But there’s nobody else I can turn to.’

  Peter Flint talked rapidly, Adam’s apple bobbing, hands moving up and down for emphasis. Hannah could understand the appeal of his boyish animation for Tina, even if a bespectacled boffin and a satyr’s widow made strange bedfellows.

  ‘It was an appalling business, Chief Inspector, appalling. Warren wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but to die like that…it doesn’t bear thinking about. Not even I can quite imagine what it must have been like for Tina and the children. It’s taken a long time for them to get over it – if you ever can get over something like that. So it’s scarcely surprising that they dread a new inquiry. Utterly dread it. Painful memories are bound to come flooding back.’

  Hannah glanced at Tina. Following her lover’s arrival, she had emerged from behind her desk and now they were all sitting together in Peter’s office. His presence seemed to soothe her. Her body language was mellowing, her smile losing its glacial edge.

  ‘You have to do what you have to do, Chief Inspector,’ Tina said. ‘Just remember that the murder turned our lives upside down. It wasn’t an easy time.’

  ‘We appreciate the sensitivities, Mr Flint, but you’ll understand that I have to ask you about your relationship with Warren Howe.’

  ‘Personal or professional?’

  ‘Both.’

  Hannah would bet any money that Tina had called him as soon as she’d heard from Kirsty. The party line would already be agreed. She’d be told what they wanted to tell her, no more.

  ‘We both shared the same passion,’ Peter Flint said.

  Hannah’s gaze flicked over to Tina. Yes, I bet. But since when?

  ‘I mean, Warren and I were fascinated by gardens. By gardening.’ He spread his arms, reminding Hannah of a magician’s stooge trying to fathom an illusion. ‘It becomes an addiction. Once you’re in its clutches, the tendrils wrap around you like a Russian vine. There’s no escape.’

  ‘How about your business – any problems?’

  ‘My goodness, have you ever known any business without problems? As it happens, we were lucky, we had more contracts than we could handle. Above all, we loved the work.’

  ‘With an added bonus,’ Tina murmured. ‘They divided the tasks, so they could keep out of each other’s way.’

  Peter grinned. ‘Which is probably why we seldom had cross words. I concentrated on design and marketing. Warren was our out-of-doors man. He did the labouring, as well as dealing with the nurseries. We made a damn good team. After Warren died, frankly, our revenue fell off a cliff. It wasn’t easy to find a replacement, let alone a plantsman of the same calibre. Customers cancelled agreements, it took years to get the firm back on an even keel.’

  ‘Is that why you wanted Mrs Howe to work for the company?’

  ‘When we were struggling, I couldn’t afford to buy out her share. Now, of course, I wouldn’t want to.’

  ‘And Sam?’

  ‘He worked for me during his summer holidays as a schoolboy. After he left school, he flitted around from job to job. When I needed another pair of hands, he was the obvious choice. The lad was born with green fingers; it’s in the genes. All he needs to do is realise that he needs to put in the hours, bend his back more often.’

  ‘And your personal relationship with Warren Howe?’

  ‘What can I say? He was a rough diamond. The sort of man whose idea of philosophy is: never spend your money on anything that fucks, floats or flies.’

  Hannah couldn’t help smiling at the gruff impersonation. She would never know whether Peter had captured Warren’s tone of voice, but she’d bet he had. ‘Not exactly your kind of chap, then?’

  ‘Apart from gardening we didn’t have much in common.’

  ‘What about your wife?’

  Two pink spots appeared in Peter’s cheeks. ‘What about her? I wasn’
t Gail’s keeper. She’s always cherished her independence. That’s why she devoted her time to her own business ventures rather than Flint Howe. Whatever she got up to was, to coin a phrase, her own affair.’

  ‘Even while you were married?’

  ‘Even then.’

  ‘You were aware of the gossip about the two of them?’

  ‘I take no notice of gossip, Chief Inspector. It’s the curse of village life. The idle chatter of small-minded people doesn’t interest me.’

  ‘Did you confront her, ask her outright if she was having an affair?’

  ‘Of course not.’ He sniffed, as if at a bad smell. ‘Listen, we’d married young. I fell head over heels, I don’t mind admitting. Gail’s an attractive woman, it took many years for me to realise that wasn’t enough. That’s why we stayed together for so long. Too long, if I’m truthful. Today – I’m just thankful it’s over. I’m happier now than ever before.’

  Tina reached across the table and patted his hand. They smiled as they looked into each other’s eyes. Hannah stifled a sigh of exasperation.

  ‘So you weren’t jealous?’

  Peter Flint cocked his head. ‘I suppose if someone had proved to me that Warren was sleeping with my wife, yes, I would have been unhappy. Thank heaven, it never arose. Warren didn’t rub my nose in it, and I’m not plagued by the green-eyed monster.’

  Quite a paragon, aren’t you? Hear no evil, see no evil.

  ‘Is it true that your wife’s involvement with Warren Howe ended a short time before he was killed?’

  ‘If I don’t know for sure that there was any involvement, how could I know if and when it ended?’

  ‘How did she react to the news of his death?’

  Peter blinked. ‘You’re surely not wondering whether…’

  ‘All I’m trying to do is to get a clear picture of Warren Howe’s life. His relationships.’

  ‘Gail didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

  ‘I haven’t suggested it.’

  ‘She has a tongue like a stiletto, I don’t deny it. Especially after she’s had a few drinks. But she isn’t a murderer.’

  Tina frowned and Hannah sensed a warning. Don’t overdo it.