“So you can’t think of anyone who can help me?”
“The police might. They investigated when she went missing.”
Annie shot her a look. “Why didn’t you say so before? The satchel could be evidence.”
“I doubt it. They decided she’d done a bunk with that lad of hers. A real bad lot off the Hobfield. Vinny Costello was his name.”
Chapter 10
Back at the station Calladine rang the Duggan and asked to speak to Julian Batho.
“Emily Blackwell. She was brought in yesterday from Clough Bottom. It looks highly likely that the body had been tampered with after death. I know Roxy is looking. Has anything turned up yet?”
“Doctor Bower did the PM. He’s noted your concerns in the report. It looks as if her clothing had been rearranged and make-up applied — plus something about the shoes. From the soil on her feet it is thought she walked barefoot up the hill. We have retrieved a set of fingerprints from them and they are not those of the deceased.”
“So someone put them back on.”
“Looks like it. The shoes were black patent,” he told Calladine. “Good and shiny, the marks are clear. However there is no match on record. So, find me a suspect and we might be in business.”
“The people we’ve been dealing with so far, Archer and his mates, all have records. Not one of them, then.”
“No. Doctor Atkins is having the lipstick analysed. She tells me it’s an expensive brand. That fact might lead somewhere.”
“Bad luck about the cottage by the way,” said Calladine.
“Frankly I think it was just as well. Imogen has quite the wrong idea about the extent of my capabilities. They do not run to patching up brickwork or laying down floors. Whoever buys that dump will have to part with a king’s ransom to put it right.”
“I suggested she speak to Zoe.”
“We did. We’re going to look at a semi in Lowermill at the weekend, after the christening.”
“Hope it suits.”
“Keep it under wraps for the time being. I haven’t told her yet. We have a conflict over what type of property to buy. You know her, she’s the out-in-the-sticks type. I’m afraid I’m a little more conservative.”
“If you get something on the body I’ll be here or on my mobile.”
He didn’t fancy a long talk about Imogen’s dream home. “When are you doing the PM on Wayne Davey?”
“Later today. If I get anything interesting you’ll be the first to know. The same gun was used in both shootings,” Julian told him. “Interesting, don’t you think?”
“I wish I knew what it meant. We have a gunman. He’s on our patch and he’s used the thing twice. Problem is, we don’t know who he is or what he’s after. Now we have a stabbing too.”
“I’m checking the database. It’s unlikely the gun is new. If it’s been used in the past, it might help to know where.”
“Thanks, Julian.”
Calladine’s mobile showed a text from Ruth. She wanted him to meet her at the church later that day to go over the procedures for the christening with the vicar. He hadn’t told Eve yet. He decided to ring her.
* * *
Only the main participants were required for the rehearsal but Eve Buckley had come along anyway.
“I hope Ruth doesn’t mind. I took this as an opportunity. I see so very little of you,” she chided. “You need to call round more. I want you in our lives, Tom. I’m getting sick of saying it.”
“It’s work that keeps me away,” he lied. “Long days, long nights, and hardly a moment to spare. We’ve got a hard one on at the moment.”
“You’d tell me anything, you would. You eat, don’t you? You should come and eat with us.”
It wasn’t that easy. Eve Buckley might be his mother but she was still a stranger. And socially they were miles apart. She was a darling of the Leesworth elite, a golf club member and all the other stuff Calladine didn’t go in for. He’d been to one do at hers. On that occasion he’d met his uncle and discovered he was the chief super.
“It was nice of you to ask me to accompany you to the christening,” she said. “I appreciate the thought.”
It had been Ruth’s idea, actually. He shuffled uncomfortably.
“Who’s to be godmother?”
Another problem. Ruth had asked his ex, Monika. Ruth Bayliss was pulling out all the stops to make this a right tricky one for him. He wasn’t daft. Having Eve as his plus-one meant the path was clear for Monika.
“Any others on your team got roles?”
“No, Eve. Just me. They’ll be here for the actual event though. Until then it’s work all the way, I’m afraid.”
“How’s that nice couple, the detective and the professor?”
“Still being nice — well to each other anyway.” He smiled. “They’re looking for a house to buy. They just missed one at the auction — Clough Cottage.”
Eve grimaced. “That awful place! They should count themselves lucky. It’s got a bad history.”
“Why? What’s wrong with it? Seriously detached, no near neighbours, make as much noise as you want. Perhaps I should have had a go myself.”
“Clough Cottage has a dreadful past,” she confided. “It’s full of ghosts and believe me, Tom, they’re not happy ones.”
“First I’ve heard.”
“You’re probably too young.”
“Go on then — spill. Tell me the gory details.”
“It’s not funny, really. It’s a tragic tale. A woman called Mary Slater used to live there. She was the person the girls went to if they got themselves into trouble . . .” She pulled a face. “You know.”
Calladine shook his head. He’d had no idea.
“Surely you must have heard something about her, and that cottage? There’s not much you don’t know about this town.”
“Whatever it is, it must have gone right over my head. And what do you mean, girls in trouble?”
“I’m talking about young, unmarried girls who’d got themselves pregnant. More often than not they were on their own. The bloke who’d got them that way did a runner. Mary Slater fixed things. She carried out illegal abortions, Tom. Granny Slater we used to call her, though God knows why. She had no grandchildren, just that little girl of hers.”
“That’s why I wouldn’t know. Abortion only became legal after 1967. Before that I was too young.”
Eve huffed. “Perhaps I shouldn’t be saying this, but even after 1967 abortions were still hard to get in some places, Leesdon in particular. We had a GP who was dead set against it. He was in his sixties and very old-fashioned. He was here until seventy-two when his brother took over. He was no better.”
“Couldn’t the girls insist? Attitudes had changed by the seventies. Couldn’t they ask to be referred to a different doctor?”
“They could try, but it was never going to happen. Medically, Leesdon was a backwater. The doctor would delay. He’d cancel the girl’s appointments. The nurse at the practice did exactly as he told her. In the end it was easier to walk up that hill and see Granny Slater.”
“When did she leave Clough Cottage?”
“I’ve no idea, but there was a bit of a mystery as I recall. In the end it was presumed she did a runner to avoid paying the rent.”
“And no one’s seen her since?”
“I wouldn’t know, Tom. She wasn’t popular. When Mary Slater ventured down to Leesdon for shopping, folk had been known to spit in her face.”
He looked at her. He’d only discovered recently that Eve was his birth mother. She’d been pregnant in her teens with no husband. The man she’d been seeing — his father, Frank Calladine, had a wife at home. “Did you ever consider . . . ?”
The question hung in the air between them. Her eyes dropped to the floor. “Yes, Tom, I did. At one point I even discussed it with your dad. It was a way out for both of us. I didn’t want to raise a child and he wouldn’t leave Freda, not even for me.”
“But you didn’t go th
rough with it. You must have changed your mind.”
“I was never keen and Frank wouldn’t hear of it. He’d already made up his mind anyway to take you himself, and the rest you know.”
“The vicar wants us inside now!” Ruth called to them.
“We’d better go.” Eve took his arm. “Who’s that woman? She keeps looking at you.” She nodded towards Monika.
“An old friend of Ruth’s and mine. She’s the godmother.”
“Do you know her?”
“Yes. Monika and I have history, and not all good.”
“Why not go and speak to her?”
“That could be tricky. She doesn’t like me very much.”
Eve slapped his arm. “Don’t be so soft. She’s interested, a woman can tell.”
Eve deliberately walked away to join the others as they went inside the church. Monika was hanging back. Waiting for him?
She smiled thinly. “It’s been a while. Can I suggest we just get on with this without too much fuss? We both know what this is about. It’s Ruth having a go at relationship first aid.”
“I don’t mind, if you don’t,” Calladine replied. “Besides, it’s nice to see you. You look well.”
She did too. Monika had lost weight and her hair was different, a bit longer and curly. It suited her.
“You look bloody awful. What happened?” Blunt as ever.
“The job, no Ruth because of the baby, a stroppy DCI to deal with . . . stuff happens, you know that.”
“I know how you are. Have a night off, a weekend away. You should consider it, Tom, before your body steps in and lets you down.”
“I’m thinking of going to the gym.”
“Gym. Huh. It’ll take more than that. A complete change of lifestyle is called for, Tom Calladine.” She slapped his belly with the back of her hand. “And your hair! Why all the grey?”
He shrugged. “Age, I suppose. I do my best.”
“You do nothing. You need taking in hand.”
“You are a hard woman, Monika.”
“That woman you’re with. She’s a Buckley, isn’t she?”
“Yep. That’s Eve Buckley. Turns out she’s my birth mother.”
“Birth mother? What on earth are you talking about?”
“It was in the box Freda left me — the one you had in safekeeping.”
Monika was the manageress of the care home Freda, his mother, had lived in for the last months of her life.
Monika stared at him. “Are you being serious?”
“Straight up. She is the big secret my dad kept for years.”
“Eve Buckley — instant mother. Who’d have thought it?” She looked at him again. “You’re not having me on, are you?”
“No! She really is my mother. Believe me, I was just as surprised when I found out.”
“Your dad had an affair and Freda never knew?”
“That’s about the size of it. Freda took me on and never said anything. She must have wanted me to know the truth though. Hence the box with my past in it.”
“You’ve landed on your feet in that case. The Buckleys are loaded.”
“She’s got two other kids, so I imagine I’m well down the pecking order.”
“Eve Buckley never approached you in all these years?”
“No. Apparently it was agreed between the three of them that she’d not interfere. I’d still be oblivious now if it wasn’t for Freda’s letter.”
“And you’re bringing her to the christening instead of the glamorous reporter?”
She didn’t know. He’d have to tell her. Talking about Lydia always hurt. “Lydia was murdered,” he said quietly. “Fallon had her shot.”
They were walking towards the church, but this made Monika stop dead in her tracks. “I’d no idea.”
“Like me, she was scheduled to give evidence against him. Fallon wanted us both dead but he went for Lydia first.” Despite the fact they’d split up before it had happened, it was painful to talk about Lydia. Particularly about the way she’d died. “He’s dead himself now. Evil bastard.”
Monika put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Tom. You’ve had a lot to cope with.”
“So now you understand why I look like I do,” he joked.
“It might help to talk. If you want to come round and have a meal one night, ring me. We’ll have a catch up.”
Calladine smiled at her. He might just do that.
The practice didn’t last long. Harry Ireson was exercising his lungs again and Ruth was at the end of her tether.
“Why won’t he stop?” she hissed at Calladine. “It’s bloody embarrassing.”
“Give him here,” he offered. “I’ll walk him round the graveyard, check on my parents.”
“Great. Now he’ll have nightmares as well.”
With the infant in his arms he walked out into the last of the evening sunshine. His parents were in a plot behind the church.
“Want me to come with you?” Eve asked.
“If you want to. I’m really just trying to get this one off. Give Ruth a break.”
They found his parents’ grave.
“I loved him, you know. Frank Calladine,” Eve said
“He died before I could really get to know him. All I remember was him always going on at me about something. Not keeping my stuff tidy, being hopeless at school, and looking like an urchin. I always felt like a disappointment.”
“He loved you. He was your dad, that’s what they’re like.” Eve was holding a red rose, taken from a bush in the hedgerow. She laid it on the grave. “You keep it nice.”
“Actually it’s not me. There’s a bloke who does odd jobs for the vicar. He looks after things for a fee.”
“The work leave you no time?”
“Never enough.”
He saw Monika walking towards them.
“Tom!” she called over to him.
“Look, I’ll leave you to talk to your friend. See you Sunday if not before.” Eve kissed his cheek and left.
Monika was laughing at him. “Suits you, a babe in your arms.”
“I’m not bad at it either. See — he’s sleeping.”
She linked his arm. “Your parents . . . I was fond of Freda. She was straight-talking and no trouble, even at the end.” She nodded at the grave. “It’s nice, but bare. You should plant something — a couple of rose bushes,” she said, looking at Eve’s single red rose. “Freda would like that.”
“I should pay more attention. Do stuff myself. Okay. I’ll get something from the garden centre this weekend.”
“I can come with you if you like. Help you choose.”
That wasn’t a bad idea. “We could lunch in that pub you always liked on the way back,” he suggested.
“Okay. I’d like that.”
There was something about Monika that Calladine had always found comforting. Being with her was easy. He could just be himself.
Monika pointed to another grave on the way out. “That one has always intrigued me . . .”
“I’ll take him,” Ruth interrupted, coming up behind them.
Calladine handed him back. “He’s dropped off.”
“. . . She hadn’t a soul in the world yet the grave is pristine and there are always fresh flowers left every week.”
Ruth shuddered. “That’s weird, Monika. It must be a relative. Maybe it was a long-lost someone who inherited money from her.”
“There was no one that I can remember. She was a jolly soul though, one of my favourites. Old Mrs Jackson spent the last three years of her life with me.”
“I could do with taking you home with me, Tom,” Ruth said. “It seems I just have to put this one within a few feet of you and he falls asleep. I wish I had that power!”
“He’ll settle down.”
“D’you promise? At this rate I’ll never get back to work.”
“Perhaps work could come to you. I’ll come round to yours tomorrow sometime, run a few things past you. The case could do with some fresh in
put.”
“Make sure you do. I’ve got serious withdrawal symptoms.”
* * *
Mick Garrett yelped in pain. The last kick in the ribs had winded him. He was lying on the ground by the riverbank, on his side with his hands and ankles taped behind his back.
“That mate of yours gone and left you?” the man sneered, kicking him again.
Garrett was gasping for breath. “No idea. I saw him a few hours ago but now he’s dropped out of sight.”
The man landed another vicious kick, this time in Garrett’s guts. It made the lad want to throw up. “Leave off,” he rasped. “I know nowt. If I did, I’d tell you.”
“You’re lying. What’re you doing here tonight? The pair of you are up to something, aren’t you?”
The man was kneeling beside him, his face so close Garrett could feel the warm breath on his forehead.
“No. I saw him earlier. I followed him here.” Garrett’s breathing was laboured. His ribs hurt like hell. The bastard must have broken a couple.
“Archer is doing a job for me. I wasn’t sure if I could trust him. Now I know I can’t.” The man was tapping on his mobile again. “He doesn’t answer. Why? Where has he gone?”
“He’s scared. He thinks whoever did Wayne Davey, will come after us. He’ll lie low for a bit, that’s all,” Garrett said.
“Did he say who was after him?” The man grabbed a handful of Garrett’s hair and slammed his face into the mud.
Garrett screamed in pain. His nose had caught a large stone. “Let off, mate. I can’t help you.”
In response, the man slammed his head into the ground again.
“The bloke heading up the rival firm to Costello. He said there was a battle going on for the estate and we should keep our heads down.”
“Stupid fool. He’d no right to say anything. He should learn to keep his mouth shut.”
Garrett had no idea who this man was. He’d never seen him before. He’d known his mate was waiting for someone so he’d hung around. A bad mistake. He should have laid low like Archer had told him to. Why hadn’t his mate said the bloke was bloody dangerous?
“Do you work for Costello?” Garrett groaned.
The man laughed humourlessly. “No, son. I work for myself.” He was on his mobile again. “Where would he go to ground?”
DEAD & BURIED a gripping crime thriller full of twists Page 9
