Dead in the Water

by Matthew Costello

“Coz, well, must be something going on, with you teachers. Tonight, I mean.”

  Then Jake laughed, the sound cruel, punctuating the otherwise quiet summer night.

  “Anyway. You know where to find me. Eh?”

  Then Jake’s laugh broke into coughs and Maddie saw her chance to escape.

  “Thanks, Jake. I’d better go…”

  He kept his hands on the window as she pressed the button for it to go up.

  “Whoa, whoa! Thought we were having a nice little–”

  Last second, he unhinged his fingers.

  And Maddie pulled away and headed down toward the Ploughman’s.

  ***

  She stood in the deserted car park of the Ploughman’s and watched the mist swirling in the orange glow of the street lamps.

  This is a waste of time, she thought. I should head home – get to bed.

  Then she heard a shout – in the distance.

  A shout? No – more like a howl. Was it an animal? A fox maybe – caught in a trap?

  No. There it was again – and this time clearly human. Somewhere down by the river. The sound – mournful, complaining, drifting into the night.

  Was it Josh? She had to know. She climbed back in the car and drove off towards the bridge.

  A thin moon had risen over the hills behind Cherringham and she could just pick out the shape of the fields running down to the river.

  But as she headed out of the village, she saw the mist thicken down in the valley ahead – a solid, cloudy layer running from where the Thames curved in from the north, to where it ran past the village itself. The chilly water hitting the hot summer air.

  She pulled off the empty road, still some distance from the centuries-old bridge, and turned off the engine.

  Didn’t want to race headlong across, not if Josh was standing here somewhere.

  A wispy cloud covered the bridge like a blanket, hiding the road, the stonework – both vanished.

  As soon as she got out of the car, Maddie could hear the water coursing through the arches of the bridge, tumbling over the weir.

  But then – she heard the voice again.

  Yelling. So loud. More than a howl now – a shriek.

  Josh.

  Somewhere on the bridge. But even though she was close, there was no way she could see, not with that fog hugging close to the river.

  She started running, already planning ahead.

  She’d get him into her car, drive him home. Make sure he got there safe.

  And as she ran, she called out: “Josh!”

  But then – quick as that – the howls stopped.

  Josh gone?

  To check the roadway suspended over the steaming river she’d have to enter that fog bank, a wall over the river.

  Like walking into a cloud.

  And Maddie had never felt more scared in her life.

  ***

  When she walked into it, the gossamer cloud seemed to dissipate – as if her violation of it made it move on. Or, simply, being in it she could now see more. The white line down the centre of the road. The old stonework of the bridge itself. But no Josh.

  Had he run away when he heard her voice?

  Again, she tried to make sense of this. Josh being here, his acting so crazy after… well… who knows what? None of that seemed like the Josh she knew. One good thing at least – he wasn’t here.

  A wind came then. A warm breeze, yet it still raised goose bumps. And with the feathery fog blowing away for a few moments, she walked over to the stone parapet of the bridge.

  Her hand grabbed the edge. She felt a sweat on the stone, left behind by the mist.

  Josh had bolted away.

  At least he wasn’t here.

  And maybe she could simply go home. Check in with him tomorrow. She looked down.

  A thin layer of mist still clung to the water’s surface. But that, too, was yielding to the steady breeze. And, as it did, she saw something in the cold light from the moon.

  Just yards away – where the river took a small kink, the strong current sending it bouncing into an embankment, kicking into some exposed rocks, sending up flashes of white – something was there.

  Something… that slowly revealed with the dissipating mist.

  Not something.

  Someone.

  Maddie’s eyes locked on the clearing image, until she saw it… knew who it must be. Her hands released from the stone railing – to go down there – hurry there. Make sure, make sure, make…

  But even as her hands moved she could see the terrible truth.

  Josh’s eyes wide open, staring up into the night sky.

  His limbs akimbo, like a marionette thrown against a wall, each arm, each leg twisted to point in a different direction as the steady current tugged at his lifeless body.

  Until – like losing a battle – his body pulled free of the rocks, and joined the dark river as it raced away, under the bridge, away, away…

  And Josh was gone.

  Floating so fast downriver.

  And then Maddie kept repeating words in her head as if it was impossible, as if it couldn’t ever be true.

  Nonetheless, fact.

  Josh Owen is dead.

  PART ONE

  A Questionable Death

  3. School Run

  “Mum, I can’t wear this – look at it.”

  Sarah Edwards glanced away from her bedroom mirror to the doorway where her daughter Chloe was holding up a crumpled white blouse.

  “The ironing board’s out downstairs. Put it there, love, and grab some breakfast,” said Sarah, turning back to the mirror to check her hair. “I’ll be down in a minute to do it.”

  Sarah heard Chloe muttering as she went downstairs. Her daughter might be seventeen but she didn’t seem ready to accept that ironing might be a chore she could do herself.

  God, I’ll be glad when this term’s over, thought Sarah. I can’t take much more of this chaos.

  Getting this new house – bigger, with an office, and a real garden – had seemed a great idea at the time.

  But now, surrounded by unopened boxes filled with their life, she wasn’t so sure.

  Grabbing a cardigan from one of the packing cases that were stacked in a corner of the bedroom, she stepped round a pile of books and headed down the landing.

  “Daniel – it’s five past,” she called as she passed her son’s bedroom.

  “I’m awake,” came a muffled voice.

  “You’d better be – we’re going in ten minutes,” said Sarah.

  That seemed to do the trick. As she went down the stairs she heard the familiar clumping and moaning which meant that Daniel was getting dressed.

  She went past more boxes in the hall, then into the big kitchen-breakfast room at the back of the house, where she spotted Chloe now leaning against the dresser, eating a bowl of muesli.

  Riley, the crazy spaniel they’d been looking after for nearly a year now, sat patiently at Chloe’s feet hoping some morsel might drop his way.

  Jack Brennan’s dog, to be sure, but the spaniel certainly felt like one of the family now.

  And who knew if Jack would ever come back from the States – reclaim his dog; his old life?

  Sarah crossed the kitchen, laid out her daughter’s blouse on the ironing board and tested the iron.

  She loved this room. And right now, in the height of the summer, the morning light streamed in through the folding glass doors that ran the width of the house.

  That sunlight felt like an invitation to take the day off, sit in the garden, sip a glass of white wine, and watch the swallows dipping and gliding over the river.

  But, no – not today.

  First, she had the school run to endure. A gauntlet! And then another long day in the office at her computer, checking the final copy for an autumn ad campaign she was handling. The job that had promised to pay her enough to risk everything and move into this bigger house on the edge of Cherringham.

  This house was the dream cott
age she’d been wanting for years. When it suddenly came up for sale two months ago, she’d leapt at the chance.

  With some help from a surprise inheritance – thank God for great aunts – she’d just been able to afford it. In spite of the mortgage company’s suspicion that a single mum wouldn’t be able to meet the payments, the deal had gone through only two weeks ago.

  But what a time to move house – a month from the end of school term and crunch time at work!

  “Sorry, Mum, forgot – I made you a tea,” said Chloe, dropping her muesli bowl into the sink then bringing a mug over to Sarah.

  “Thanks, love,” said Sarah. She took a gulp of tea, then: “Give Riley a quick run round the garden could you?”

  “Sure,” said Chloe, opening the folding doors.

  Chloe loved that dog.

  The minute he saw the doors open, Riley launched himself through them and out into the garden. At least he got to enjoy it!

  Sarah watched him race around joyously in the warm summer air.

  “Seen my lunch box?” said Daniel from behind her.

  Sarah turned to see her son in school uniform but no shoes, scratching his tousled head and leaning against the door.

  Not quite ready.

  “In your bag I expect,” said Sarah.

  “Hmm, good call,” said Daniel finding his bag, then taking the lunch box over to the fridge and opening the door. Sarah watched him rummage through the contents of the fridge.

  “Can I have this cheese?” he said.

  “If you take some salad too,” said Sarah.

  “Salad is the work of the devil,” said Daniel, grinning.

  “Unlikely,” said Sarah, hanging the blouse on the back of a chair. “I think the devil has other fish to fry.”

  “Hmm, how does the devil fry fish? Discuss in no more than five hundred words…”

  “I’ve done your blouse, Chloe,” Sarah called through into the house, joining Daniel at the fridge. “Look, there’s a nice pasty, okay? And some tomatoes.”

  She watched Daniel shove the food into the plastic container and shut the lid. The container looked pretty grubby.

  “Did you wash that?”

  “It’s fine,” he said, putting the box in his school bag. “Didn’t smell too bad yesterday.”

  “Don’t they teach you anything in biology? Mould? Bacteria?”

  “Don’t do biology.”

  “Shame,” said Sarah. “And talking of biology – your shoes are under the sofa. Useful for feet.”

  Daniel smiled, and she watched him drift off to the living room to find them.

  He was growing up too fast as well. It’s what people always said… goes so quick. But when you are in it, you hardly notice.

  Except today, this morning, she was noticing.

  Sarah finished her tea, gathered up the rest of the dishes, slotted them into the dishwasher, and opened the back door to let Riley in. Then, hustling now, she filled his water bowl, locked the back door, quickly checked Daniel had shut the fridge, grabbed her handbag and car keys, and whoosh!

  She headed out into the hall.

  “Two minutes, guys, or we really are going to be late!”

  Then her mobile rang.

  She checked the screen: Tony Standish.

  Now, of all times!

  Tony – such a dear family friend – a solicitor who had not only supported Sarah a few years back when she stumbled into becoming a part-time detective, but had also, on more than one occasion, commissioned her and Jack to investigate a case.

  Rushed or not – Tony must be answered.

  “Tony.”

  “Sarah, my dear, how are you? The new place and all? Must be madness!”

  Tony’s voice, so old-school, like a country doctor from a 50s film. So soothing.

  “Oh, school run, you know, Tony.”

  Though Sarah knew that Tony and his long-term partner had never had to endure a school run.

  Wonder how he felt about that, chaos or no chaos?

  “Oh dear, forgive my timing,” said Tony. “So – I shall be very brief. Lunch today – my office? Say around one?”

  “Gosh, well, I–”

  “Terribly short notice, I know – but, well, I need your help, Sarah.”

  “Of course,” said Sarah, unable to say no. It’s Tony after all!

  “I shall look forward to it.”

  “Excellent,” said Tony. “Bye now.”

  Sarah clicked her phone off and dropped it back in her bag.

  She could see the kids now waiting expectantly in her old Rav-4, which stood in the gravel drive.

  “Back later, Riley,” she called, out of habit, into the empty house.

  Then, she locked the front door behind her, climbed into the car, started the engine, and sped off up to the lane that led to Cherringham.

  Thinking…

  Tony Standish needs help? That used to mean only one thing. A problem of some kind. And maybe…

  A new case.

  But then she thought: I don’t do that anymore.

  ***

  Sarah shut the door to her office, took the three stone steps down to the pavement and started to thread her way through the tourists up the High Street.

  Early July, so it wasn’t even high season yet in Cherringham, but – God! – already the coaches were turning up like clockwork, morning and afternoon, delivering visitors from all over the world on their Cotswold tours.

  Sarah never complained though. The crowds were good for business, and, in the end, good for her business too.

  She passed the old Victorian village hall, then stopped outside Huffington’s Tea Rooms to allow a group of Japanese tourists to pass.

  What if Tony really does have a case for me? she thought.

  Am I really done? Or could I handle it on my own?

  Since Jack left for LA so suddenly a year ago, Sarah had concentrated on the web business, just accepting that the little detective sideline that they’d had together was over.

  And, boy – as Jack would say – did she miss it.

  She waited as the tourists trotted after their guide down into the village, then crossed the street.

  Tony Standish’s office occupied one of the elegant eighteenth-century houses that overlooked Cherringham square: tall windows, tasteful grey paintwork and a discrete brass plaque next to a solid white-painted oak front door.

  She pressed the bell and Tony’s secretary, Mary – nearly as old as Tony, and just as much of a Cherringham institution – opened it.

  “Hello, Mary,” said Sarah.

  “Ah, Ms. Edwards,” said the woman as she let Sarah in, quietly closing the door behind her. “Mr. Standish is in the boardroom on the first floor with his guest – do go up.”

  Guest? Tony hadn’t said anything about a guest.

  And she had to admit, all this was a bit intriguing. Maybe even exciting. Whatever. She was about to find out.

  4. The New Head

  Sarah passed Tony’s familiar office and climbed the curved, broad staircase, with its brass carpet rails and mahogany banister.

  Ahead, she saw the open door to the boardroom and went in.

  Tony stood with a glass of sherry at one end of the long oak table. Three places were set for lunch.

  Next to him stood a tall woman in a well-cut suit – probably mid-forties. When she turned and smiled, Sarah recognised her instantly.

  The new head of Chloe and Daniel’s school.

  Now having a lunchtime sherry!

  “Sarah – may I introduce Louise James?”

  Sarah stepped forward and shook Louise’s outstretched hand. As always, Louise was dressed smartly – very much the professional.

  “We met briefly when you arrived back in May,” said Sarah. “I’m sure you won’t remember me in that crowd – all those other parents.”

  “No, I do actually,” said Louise. “You wished me luck.” The woman smiled. “Always appreciated.”

  “I thought you were goin
g to need it,” said Sarah. “How are you settling in?”

  Sarah saw the woman look at Tony. A bit of hesitation. “I’m just about finding my feet at school,” said Louise, “though I’m living in chaos in the new house.”

  “Tell me about it – we just moved a couple of weeks ago and we’re still living out of boxes,” said Sarah. “We must meet for a drink – compare notes.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “New job, new house every couple of years, I don’t know how you do it, Louise,” said Tony.

  “I should get used to it,” said Louise, “but I never seem to.”

  “You’ve had to deal with poor Mr. Owen’s accident too,” said Sarah, suddenly remembering the news from the last week. “That must have been awful for you all.”

  “It was,” said Louise. “His year group particularly – have found it so very difficult to deal with.”

  “Do the police have any idea what he was doing down at the bridge?” said Sarah. “I mean – was it just high jinks after the prom?”

  Sarah saw Tony and Louise glance at each other again.

  “Louise,” said Tony, “I haven’t yet explained to Sarah why I asked her to lunch.”

  “Ah,” said Louise, turning back to her, “so you don’t know why I’m here?”

  “Not a clue,” said Sarah, smiling. “But I imagine it must be something confidential – it usually is if it requires one of Tony’s famous boardroom lunches.”

  “Oh, it’s certainly confidential,” said Louise, looking back at Tony, her face serious.

  “Shall we make ourselves comfortable?” said Tony, gesturing to the three places set at the table. “Lunch is on its way, and perhaps in the meantime you might explain the, er, situation, Louise?”

  Sarah pulled back one of the Regency chairs and sat opposite Louise, with Tony at the head of the table.

  She drew the napkin from its silver holder – everything was always “just-so” with Tony – and laid it across her lap.

  She then looked across at Louise and waited.

  “You mentioned Josh,” said Louise, her gaze not leaving Sarah’s. “Well, this is actually about him, I’m afraid.”

  Sarah waited as Louise seemed to look for confirmation from Tony before continuing.

  “You see, on Saturday Tony contacted me with some rather disturbing news.”