"Could have been Cheung using the phone."
I nod, glad I have Gemma with me.
With traffic light on the road, we make good time to the A22. Here, we join the steady flow of people returning home from shopping or working in Eastbourne and the surrounding towns. We make good progress through Whitesmith and pick up speed on the East Hoathly bypass. Clouds have rolled in from the west, signalling the end of the hot, dry spell that's kept September so warm. The darkening sky reminds me we may be too late to get into Tombstone.
If only we had a phone.
"What's the plan when we get to Tombstone?" Gemma asks as we slow for the speed camera in Halland. "Round up a posse and save the day?"
There's a nervous undertone to her words. Like me, the reality is dawning. This is not a TV drama or a novel. Collins has already been brutally murdered, and two more deaths are planned. I'm not James Bond or Dirty Harry. I have no idea what I'll do when I get to the barn. I just know I have to do something.
I'm assuming Birchill will fail. He may succeed, especially if he took some of the workers from Tombstone with him.
"We go and see Foley," I reply. "If he's still around."
"You just want to impress Rebecca by playing the hero."
"I want to find out if Birchill saved the day."
"And if he didn't?"
"I'll have to impress Rebecca."
We turn down the entrance road at a quarter past six. The light's fading now, but the gates are still open, allowing a trickle of cars out. Behind, the cortege snakes around the car park. I head straight for the ticket office.
"I'll lead," Gemma says, pulling out her ID. "You're suspended, remember?"
The youth from yesterday remembers us and offers to ring Foley. She beckons the youth closer and whispers something that makes him chuckle. The dreamy look he gives her as we walk past must be similar to mine when I first met her.
"What did you say?" I ask in the gallery of Western stars.
"I said, if anyone was going to interrupt Foley while he bonked his secretary it would be me. He seemed to like that."
"I think he rather likes you."
"Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Kent?"
A few weary parents are still leaving, dragging tired toddlers behind them. Most of the parents look more shattered than their offspring, confirming my belief that children are as bad for your health as they are for your wallet.
Most of the shops and franchises are closed. While those in charge work out their profits, the minions wipe down tables and chairs, or push dirty water in and out of corners with their mops. A small army of staff pick up litter and empty the bins into bulging black sacks. These are tossed onto a trailer, pulled by a quad bike. No one seems to take any notice of us as we hurry to the sheriff’s office. The door's locked, but there's a light inside. Gemma raps on the door and steps back, joining me to look at a defaced 'Wanted' poster. Some wag has converted the barrel of a Colt .45 into a penis.
"Does it make you feel inadequate?" she asks.
"No. Mine's real."
The door opens a fraction and Rebecca peers out. "Oh, it's you."
"We need to talk to Mr Foley," Gemma says. "It's urgent."
Rebecca opens the door and steps aside. As I step through the door, she notices the bruising to my face and makes a sympathetic noise. "That swelling looks painful," she says. "Do you want me to rub something soothing on it?"
Gemma's glare dares me to answer.
"Maybe later," I say, following my colleague inside.
Rebecca's closed everything down. The blue jacket which matches her short skirt lies across the desk, next to a coordinating bag with a silver clasp. Even her shoes harmonise. I hope they're not indicative of her mood, as she looks pale and tired. Then I get an unhealthy whiff of vomit and air freshener.
Gemma flaps her hand in front of her nose. "What's that?"
"The reason we're still here. Some brat threw up everywhere." Rebecca opens the door that leads to the cells. "Ben? It's your favourite officials."
A few moments later, Foley appears, also looking jaded. His weary eyes register Gemma and then fix on me. "You were suspended."
"I wasn't," Gemma says, stepping in front of him. "Has Mr Birchill been through recently?"
Foley and Rebecca look at each other and shake their heads.
Gemma pauses and glances at me.
"Do you know where David Cheung is?" I ask.
"No," he replies. "He didn't show for work again today. No one's seen him since the accident. His mobile goes straight to voicemail. There was no answer when I called at his place this morning."
"He's done a runner," Rebecca says. "Finding the body freaked him out, if you ask me."
It sounds like they've already debated this. "Did you go inside his place?" I ask.
"I went around the back to the conservatory, but I couldn't get in."
"Can we go, please?" Rebecca asks, turning to Gemma. "The smell in here's making my stomach turn. It was bad enough when it was just vomit, but that awful air freshener makes me gag."
"You wanted me to get rid of the smell," Foley says, his voice rising.
"Yes, with disinfectant. If I'd wanted you to mask the smell with the cheapest, nastiest air freshener known to mankind, I would have said."
I'm about to agree with her when my brain makes a connection. One thought leads to another and another until I know who killed Syd Collins.
But I've no idea how to prove it.
Twenty-Six
"Do you have security cameras at the main gate?" I ask.
We're outside on the boardwalk. I'm staring at a photographic shop on the opposite side of the street. The owner checks his shop and then pulls down the metal shutter, securing it with a twist of a key. He glances up to the sign above the shutter, adjusts his hat to a jauntier angle and smiles. It's impossible to see, but I'm sure he has a security camera hidden in the sign. Even with Tombstone's security, he still wants to protect his expensive equipment.
"We do," Foley replies, his voice hesitant with suspicion. "But I have to be on my way."
"Do you have the footage from Thursday morning?"
"You can't look at it," he replies, a little too quickly. "You're suspended. And we're closed. You'll have to come back on Monday."
Gemma steps in front of him. "I'm not suspended. And no one's leaving until we've seen the footage."
His sigh tells us how unhappy he is, but Rebecca shows no reticence. "The computer's in a room behind the ticket office. Follow me."
Gladly, I think, watching her negotiate the boardwalk and steps with ease in her stilettos. Her stride has purpose, but there's a relaxed, almost lazy quality I find alluring. She's exaggerating her movements for Foley, I guess, letting him know she's not forgotten him. Unfortunately, he seems more interested in the time. Maybe he's forgotten to record something on TV.
"Why do you want to watch a video?" Gemma asks, her voice low. "Shouldn't we be phoning the police and rescuing Birchill?"
"We don't know if he's here," I reply. "We don't know if there's a woman planning to burn down the barn."
"Don't we? I'm confused now. What's going on?"
"I'm hoping the answer's on video."
Gemma studies me, trying to pierce my defences. "You know something, don't you?"
I don't answer, keeping my gaze firmly on Rebecca's athletic legs.
The room behind the ticket office turns out to be a windowless cupboard with a tiny desk and fold out plastic chair. Foley sits and switches on the large flat screen monitor. He fiddles around for a few minutes until finally he settles on the camera at the main gate. After clicking through a few folders, he calls up Thursday's footage. I wait for him to vacate the chair, but he shows no signs of relinquishing his place.
"We'll take it from here," I say.
He shakes his head. "No way am I leaving you alone, either with or without your assistant."
I want to tell him I can't be alone with an assistant, but
this isn't the time for semantics. "Wind back to when the emergency services arrived."
He concentrates on the screen, using a slider to go back in time. He pauses every few seconds to check the image, before winding back further. At last we reach a point where an ambulance is on the road leading to the main gate. It's 6:43 am. He plays the footage, and Gemma and Rebecca push up close on either side of me.
The footage is grainy due to the poor light as dawn breaks. The headlamps from the ambulance shine directly into the camera once or twice, obscuring the image. The ambulance stops at the gate and the minutes tick by. Sensing my mood, he says, "I can fast forward to when I arrive to let them through."
He winds on seven minutes before the ambulance moves again. A patrol car follows it through the gate. Carolyn Montague's Peugeot 206 Convertible is right behind, leaving only Foley's vehicle on the roadside.
"Why didn't you use the service road?" I ask him.
"I didn't want to keep the police waiting."
"So, you drove around the outside of the park to the main gate and unlocked it for the emergency services. Did you stay there?"
"I had to wait for the doctor to arrive. He got here about ten minutes later. He left first about fifteen minutes later, followed by the ambulance. Do you want me to check?"
I shake my head. It's half past six and I'm no closer to confirming my suspicions about the killer. "Can you step frame the video?"
He glances at Rebecca, who says, "You can pause and play. That's all."
"Then maybe you'll allow us to take a closer look. I'm sure you want to take Rebecca home." I nudge Gemma and point from me to the screen. She nods and taps him on the shoulder.
"Mr Foley, we need to study the video in detail. Please leave us."
He takes his time, forcing me to back out of the room so he can leave. Once outside, he stands there, feet firmly planted on the ground. I move to the screen and slide my hand over the mouse. I rewind to the point where the ambulance first appears. I let the video play, pausing and restarting in several places. Once I reach the point where they wait for Foley, I rewind and repeat the procedure.
"We really have to leave," he says.
"No rush," Rebecca says, her head close to mine. She's watching as intently as me, but I doubt if I'm having the same effect on her as she has on me. Gemma's also watching, her hand resting lazily on my shoulder.
"What are you looking for?" she asks.
I'm about to give in when something catches my eye. I stop the video, rewind, and repeat the process. It takes me four attempts to repeat what I saw.
"Did you see it?" I ask Rebecca.
"I think I saw a brief flash of light." She shrugs and looks at Gemma.
"I couldn't see anything," she says.
I wish I could pause on the exact frame to show them. "It was so quick I almost missed it," I say, trying one last time.
"Or you imagined it," Foley says. "How much longer will you be?"
This time I freeze on the right frame. There's a faint glow of light at the back of the ambulance on the right. "There," I say, pointing.
Everyone pushes closer to look. "What is it?" Rebecca asks, her hot skin almost touching mine.
"It's the police car behind." Gemma sounds disappointed.
"It's not. Watch."
I rewind again until the police car's headlights can be clearly seen behind the ambulance. As they draw closer to the gate, the police car moves closer and disappears from view. Then I freeze the footage a few moments later.
"This is roughly where you see the glow. It's Carolyn Montague. Can we zoom in?" I call to Foley.
"I wouldn't bother. The image pixelates."
"It's definitely her," I say, rising. "We'll want a copy of the footage, Mr Foley."
He looks alarmed. "Now?"
"Later."
"Later!" He almost shrieks. "I've had enough of this. I want you to leave this minute."
"Shut up!" Rebecca says. She turns to me. "What's this all about?"
"Don't look at me," Gemma says.
"Okay," I say, realising they're blocking my escape from the cupboard. "Do you know how far down the road the vehicles were when I paused the video? No? Remember the layby where we turned around on Thursday, Gemma?"
"When we left the park and came back? Sure. But how do you know you've got the right place on the video? It's too dark."
"There was a dip in the surface, remember?"
After a moment's thought, she nods.
"If you had your headlamps on, and the front of your car rose up as it came out of the dip...."
Rebecca and Gemma nod at the same time.
"The headlamps shone into the camera for a split second. Then they were gone, hidden behind the ambulance and police car."
"So Carolyn Montague pulled out of the layby," Gemma says. "So what?"
"She was there before the emergency services arrived."
"I had worked that out, thanks. So?"
I glance at my watch. "We need to go," I say. "Could I borrow your mobile for half an hour, Rebecca?"
She purses her lips and then breaks into a sly smile. "Tell me why this car in the layby is so important."
"How did the Coroner's Officer get here before the ambulance? The emergency call doesn't go to the Coroner."
She pulls her phone out of her bag. "Half an hour," she says, placing it in my hand. "And no reading my messages."
"Why didn't you just ask her out?" Gemma calls as she chases after me. "She has no idea what you're talking about. She doesn't know there's a murder."
"No, but she understands my point. The phone's for you," I say once we're in the car. I speed off, heading for the service road. "You might need it. So, why did Carolyn beat the ambulance to Tombstone?"
"She lives closer, obviously."
"She was close, all right. She was showering in the barn when Cheung called the emergency services."
Her mouth falls open. "She killed Collins? Why?"
"Think about it, Gemma. She's the daughter. She was first on the scene when her parents' house was burnt down."
She shakes her head. "How could she murder Collins and then roll up to investigate as if nothing had happened? She can't have any feelings."
We leave the main town behind and head into the countryside. My headlamps pick out the road and the animals that stand close by in the paddocks. Within minutes we're approaching the fork in the road that leads to the barn. I continue along the service road.
"Carolyn arranged to meet me by the barn," I say. "I think she's already lured William Fisher and Birchill there. Now she's waiting for me. Well, I hope she is."
Gemma picks up the phone. "I'll ring the police."
"Not yet. We have time. We also have surprise. Before we do anything, let's make sure she can't escape."
Right on cue, we reach the service gate. It's closed, but the padlock has walked. "When Carolyn's burnt us all in the barn, she comes out this way and goes to meet the emergency services again. Only this time she can't. Open the gate, Gemma, and I'll park on the other side."
"Why not this side?"
"If you're on the other side, you can drive off if you need to."
"You can't go after her, Kent. She's dangerous. And I'm not hanging around here in the dark."
Despite her arguments, she opens the gate, closing it behind me after I drive through. It takes a few moments to manoeuvre the car so it's parallel with the gate and blocking the exit. I take my Maglite from the trunk and hand it to Gemma. Then I retrieve my head torch and slip it on. The LED beam lights up a circle of grass like a spotlight.
"You won't surprise anyone with that beam," she says.
I switch it off. "Carolyn will be in the barn."
"And Cheung?"
"With her."
"I'm calling the police, Kent."
I grab her forearm as she raises the phone. "If Carolyn hears or sees the police, who knows what she might do? Give me fifteen minutes. That's enough time for me to confir
m they're here and come back. Then we ring the police."
"What if she surprises you, Kent? She could kill you."
I shake my head, looking into those dark eyes. The thought of not seeing her again sweeps through me like a deep dread. It can't end here. It can't.
"I'll be back," I say, placing my hands on her shoulders. "I have to come back. I'm hopelessly in love with you."
I kiss the tip of my forefinger and press it to her lips. "Fifteen minutes," I call over my shoulder as I run towards Collins' house.
"You can't do this! You can't run away from me again!"
There's just enough light to make out the grass beneath my feet. When I draw level with Collins' house, I stop. What if Carolyn parked her car at the back, not at the barn?
I hurry down the side of the house. If her car is here, I'll have to go back and get mine to block her in. Or I can let the tyres down. When I emerge from behind Collins' Land Rover and see the car, I groan. It's Adele's car. For a moment, I wonder if she's still searching for the manuscript, but the house is in darkness. The rear door's locked. She's not here. So, where is she?
As I retrace my steps, I wonder if she's working with Carolyn.
Back at the front of the house, I head into the chestnut grove. The varicose roots and covering of autumn leaves force me to slow down. All around me the sounds of scampering and calls from owls play on my senses. I stop for a moment and listen, certain someone's nearby. Something brushes past my face. I just manage to stop myself crying out. But my heart thumps like crazy. I switch on the torch, which illuminates the chestnut leaf in front of my face.
The darkness seeps into the woods like ink, closing around me. My light shines a bright beam about five yards ahead of me. Beyond, the darkness lets nothing escape. A few minutes later, after a couple of close scrapes with branches, I reach the clearing in front of Cheung's hovel. I stop and switch my torch to the lower setting while I wait for my breathing to slow.
Then a woman screams.
I sprint across the clearing and leap over the gate. When I reach the back, I stop, turn off the light, and listen. I peer around the corner into an impenetrable black fog. Seconds seem like minutes as I wait, listening for the slightest sound. Finally, I edge along the wall of the lean-to. The humming of the chest freezer grows louder as I approach the door.
No Accident (The Kent Fisher Mysteries Book 1) Page 26
