by Joy Ellis
‘So how did you know him?’ asked Cat.
Leon paced up and down the nave of St Saviours. ‘He came to see the Reverend Taylor, but Allan was out visiting a sick parishioner, so I did what I could to help him. We got talking.’ He sank into a pew. ‘Well, I talked. I could see he was disturbed about something, but he didn’t tell me what. He just asked about redemption. Would you still get into heaven if you’d done something terrible? Stuff like that.’
‘He came back?’ Ben asked.
‘Often. He told me he’d been involved in something pretty horrific, and he’d survived, but whoever he was with didn’t. He obviously felt guilty about it. He said it haunted him.’
‘Did he ever say what that something was, Leon? You see, we believe that what happened then is connected to his death.’ Ben looked hard at him. ‘It’s important, Leon.’
‘It had something to do with drink and drugs. Not heavy drugs, some sort of psychoactive substance.’
‘What we used to call legal highs,’ said Ben.
Leon nodded. ‘That’s right. He said that way back in 2005, he and a couple of others tied up with two students who were out looking for some fun on Mischief Night. It all went wrong, apparently. People got hurt, and one of them died. He said it wasn’t his fault, but he still felt responsible.’ Leon hung his head. ‘I cannot believe that Michael had to suffer all over again. I’ve prayed for him to find peace, but he was a troubled man, Detectives. Very troubled.’
‘Did he say where this happened?’
‘No. He told me no more than I’ve told you, I’m afraid.’ Leon bit his lip, then looked anxious. ‘I’m sure there’s something about these deaths that I ought to know.’
Cat and Ben stared at him, not understanding.
‘I don’t know what it is, but there’s a connection, and I can’t make it. I’ve tried and tried, but it won’t,’ he smacked his fist into his other hand, ‘it just won’t come to me.’
Cat took her card from her pocket. ‘If it does, ring me immediately. We really need your help.’
‘Oh I will, believe me.’
Cat and Ben left him sitting in the pew and made their way down the aisle to the main doors. As they went through, two familiar figures were on their way in.
‘Eve? Wendy? What are you doing here?’ Cat asked.
‘Oh, hello, Cat dear. And Ben too! How are you both? We’re just coming to see Leon. He’s kindly helping us with a problem regarding a disused graveyard.’
Cat frowned. ‘Disused graveyard? No, second thoughts, I don’t think I want to know right now. Gotta fly. You two take care. Oh, and try to stay out of trouble!’
Outside Cat glanced back. ‘I don’t trust those two one inch, do you?’
Ben grinned. ‘No further than I could throw them. They’re up to something alright. Did you see the look on their faces?’
‘Shall we tell the boss?’
‘Nah. Give them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they just need a bit of spiritual guidance,’ Cat said.
‘But disused graveyards?’
‘Let’s not go there.’
‘Good idea.’
* * *
‘That’s the last we see of him.’ Spooky pointed to the monitor screen, where a small white van with a property maintenance logo on the side was turning off the main road into Greenborough.
‘Damn. I hoped we’d track him back to his lair.’ Yvonne stared at the innocuous little van. ‘Perfect cover vehicle, isn’t it? You see them everywhere and take no notice at all. Plus, he can use it to ferry his incendiary materials without raising the slightest suspicion. He could have parked in the industrial estate where Clary was killed, and never attracted a second glance.’
‘I’ve enhanced the image, just to see if there are any features that would identify it further. You know, like a busted wing mirror, or bodywork damage, though of course we do have the vehicle registration number.’
‘Although it’s no use whatsoever,’ Yvonne grumbled. The van had passed an Automatic Number Plate Recognition camera and hadn’t been recognised. It did throw up an attention drawn, but the plate was false, a random number that didn’t exist.
‘I thought you couldn’t get plates made up without proof of identity and proof of entitlement?’ said Spooky.
‘Not legally.’ Vonnie gave her a tired smile. ‘But there’s a dozen ways to get around it.’
‘There always is.’ Spooky pushed back her chair. ‘I’m sorry, Vonnie. That’s all I can do. The road he’s turned down has no cameras, and neither do any of the other minor roads leading off it. We’re stumped, I’m afraid.’
Yvonne got out of her chair and gathered up the printed images. ‘Well, we have these, and we also know the direction he was heading, unless he was throwing us off the scent. Thanks, Spooks, much appreciated. I’d better go pass this on to the boss.’
* * *
John Carson closed his old notebooks and stared at them deep in thought. The year 2005 rang a bell in the recesses of his memory, but he’d scanned every case he’d attended at the time and nothing came to mind. Joseph had told him the incident might not have happened in the Greenborough area, which did muddy the waters somewhat, but in his work as an investigator he had covered a much wider stretch than the local police divisions.
John went upstairs to the bathroom. He stood at the basin, hardly recognising the face that stared back at him from the mirror. It was haggard, deeply etched with worry lines, the eyes were sunken, red and sore. He turned on the tap and splashed himself with cold water.
He had a very good memory, he knew. So it really wasn’t one of his cases. He shut his eyes tight and concentrated while the chilly water ran down his face. Gradually his thoughts cleared. What had he heard from his colleagues at the time? Did one case in particular stand out?
He wiped his face with a towel and went back downstairs, opened the conservatory doors and stepped out into his garden. Everything drooped, sad and damp, but the cool autumn air kept his mind sharp. He ran through the different kinds of fires: house fires, car fires, fires in factories, storerooms, kitchens, barns, farm buildings, outbuildings . . . Wait!
Outbuildings! Could it . . . ? John ran back indoors and logged onto his computer. He searched for ten minutes but nothing came up. With a curse he picked up the phone and called his friend again, the man who’d been his counterpart for many years. After a few minutes, John put down the receiver and picked it up again immediately.
‘Cameron? It’s John Carson here. Can I come and see you? It’s urgent. I think I’ve found the case that got this whole thing going.’
“Please, come over right away,’ Cam said.
‘I obviously wanted to tell Nikki and Joseph, but you need to hear about it first. I’m sorry, but it’s far from straightforward.’
He heard a muttered curse on the other end of the line.
‘Sorry, Cam. You’re not going to like what I have to tell you, but I’m certain that I’m on the right track. I’m on my way.’
He practically threw the handset back on its rest, snatched up his coat and keys, and rushed out to his car.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Eve and Wendy sat in the church vestry while Leon went through the list of names. Eve watched his finger creep lower and lower down the list, and wondered whether her bright idea was so clever after all.
‘That’s it!’ Leon’s voice echoed through the church. ‘You two ladies are angels!’
Wendy smiled. ‘We’re in the right place at least.’
‘Well, Leon? Tell us,’ said Eve.
‘This name here. Applegarth. They’re a prominent local family, one of the oldest names in this part of the Fens. William and Edith Applegarth are long gone, but years ago I knew their great granddaughter. She disappeared.’
Eve and Wendy glanced at each other.
‘Go on,’ said Wendy, a little too casually.
‘Well, I studied theology for three years, then I did volunteer work in the community for a w
hile to help my interpersonal skills. That was when I met Natalie Applegarth.’
Eve heard longing in the young man’s voice and wondered if he’d had feelings for the girl.
‘At first I thought she was a street kid.’ He gave a tight laugh. ‘I couldn’t have been more wrong. Her father was one of the most influential men in the county. Not that he spent much time here. He was a diplomat, posted abroad somewhere. Anyway, she used to help out with community stuff, and over time we got quite friendly.’
Eve decided she was right. There was a sad honesty in his eyes when he talked about this girl.
‘What I liked about her was the way she was completely unaffected by her family’s status. To Natalie, it was just irrelevant. She was her own person. She had wealthy friends, and friends who were on the streets. She could communicate with anyone — with children, the elderly, academics and idiots. She was a very special person.’
‘She obviously meant a lot to you, Leon.’ Wendy smiled at him.
‘She helped me, Mrs Avery. I knew I had a calling to go into the church, but it’s still a massive decision to make. Natalie was able to put all my doubts and concerns into perspective. She is one of the reasons I am here now.’
‘What happened to her, Leon?’ asked Eve gently.
‘I don’t know. I guess I never will. We’d arranged to help the Salvation Army at a soup kitchen they ran, but she didn’t turn up. I never saw her again.’
Tears glistened in Leon’s eyes. He blinked.
‘You made enquiries?’ Wendy asked.
‘Oh yes. I even went to her home. By then, the family had moved up the county to Cassington. I was told that Natalie was needed for a family reunion in, oh, Geneva, I think it was, and that she was considering staying and finishing her studies there.’
‘Was that possible?’ Eve said.
‘It was possible, but far from probable. Natalie never let anyone down, and she knew I was expecting her. She wouldn’t have left without a word, she just wouldn’t.’
‘Forgive me for asking,’ Eve said, ‘but what does this girl’s surname have to do with the recent fires and the deaths? Why were you so distraught?’
‘I hadn’t considered it before, but I think Ronnie knew Natalie Applegarth, and possibly Clary did too. Michael, I don’t know about. But the police are looking for a link between the victims, and Natalie could be that link.’ His eyes widened. ‘And another thing. When I went to the house to look for her, I was told there’d been an incident a few nights before, a fire of some kind. They said a boy had been hurt. They were saying it was lucky that Natalie had already gone away. A fire! Does that mean something?’
‘Yet another fire,’ whispered Wendy. ‘It certainly could.’
‘You need to tell this to my daughter, Leon, right now! I think it’s important.’ Eve glanced at her watch. ‘It’s four o’clock. She’ll still be at the station.’
‘My car’s in dock until tomorrow.’
‘Come on, we’ll take you.’
* * *
Nikki was getting anxious.
‘I saw John Carson going into Cam’s office over thirty minutes ago. What the hell is going on? Why aren’t they keeping us in the loop?’
Joseph gnawed on his bottom lip. ‘I don’t know. I’m as worried as you are.’
‘Ma’am? Sorry to interrupt, but you have a visitor, well, three actually.’
Nikki noticed a slight smile playing around Niall’s lips. ‘Well? Who is it? A deputation from the Women’s Institute? Half the flock of St Saviours collecting for a new roof?’
‘Very close on both scores, actually, ma’am.’ Niall grinned broadly. ‘It’s your mother, Mrs Avery, and Leon Martin, the curate at St Saviours.’
‘What on earth . . . ?’
‘Shall I arrange an interview room? Or bring them in here?’
‘Bring them up here, Niall, please.’ She turned to Joseph. ‘I dread to think what this is about. I thought the Daredevil Sisters had given up sleuthing and taken up gardening.’
‘Didn’t think it would last.’ Joseph chuckled. ‘But it could be important, if Leon’s with them.’
When she’d heard what Leon had to say, Nikki silently blessed her mother for getting involved once more. Without Eve’s dogged refusal to let a thing go, they might never have been given this piece of information.
‘So far, other than you, Leon, we have found no connections at all between the killer’s victims. So, if they all knew this Applegarth girl, and we’ll assume for now that Michael did too, she is the link.’ Nikki nodded slowly.
‘Which makes it quite possible that though they never knew each other, they all knew Natalie,’ Joseph mused. ‘We need to find Natalie, no matter where she is. We have to talk to her.’
‘I don’t think you’ll be able to, Sergeant.’ Leon sighed. ‘I tried for years. I’m sure her family sent her away. I have no proof, but they certainly didn’t want me looking for her.’
‘We might have a little more leverage than you, Leon, no offence meant.’
‘None taken, Sergeant, and good luck to you. Just don’t get your hopes up too soon.’ Leon stared at the floor. ‘Her father is a powerful man. I sometimes wonder if he sent her away because of me.’
‘Why on earth would he do that?’ Eve exclaimed.
‘Maybe he didn’t like the idea of his only daughter becoming a curate’s wife.’
‘The clergy not good enough for him?’ Wendy said.
‘No, it’s not that. He had his own beliefs, and my faith didn’t exactly conform.’ He stared pointedly at Nikki. ‘He was very chummy with the Black family from Ferry Street.’
That explained Leon’s agitation when she asked him about satanists. It wasn’t just because of his religious beliefs, it was more to do with losing the love of his life.
‘Thank you for telling us all this. We’ll start following it up immediately. And, Leon? If we should find out what happened to Natalie, or where she is now, do you want to know?’
‘More than anything, DI Galena. If she’s happy, all well and good. I’ll leave it there. I wouldn’t do anything to spoil her life.’
Nikki nodded. ‘Okay. We’ll be in touch, one way or the other.’ She looked at her mother and Wendy, ‘And it’s back to Gardener’s World for you two. We appreciate your assistance, but leave it with us now, okay?’
‘Delighted we could be of some help to you.’ Wendy’s grin said, “But we got there before you, didn’t we?”
Not long after they left, she and Joseph were finally called to the superintendent’s office.
‘At last!’ And Nikki strode out of the office.
* * *
It was getting late, but Yvonne was haunted by the image of that little white van turning off the main drag and into a side street. So she decided to drive the same route herself.
The van had taken a well-known back-way that avoided the congested A-road running through the centre of Greenborough. You could either come back out onto the A-road much closer to the edge of town, or take one of several smaller roads. One had a parade of shops that catered almost exclusively to Eastern Europeans. Another led to a rabbit warren of cul-de-sacs full of bungalows for the elderly. This last road led into a more expensive area of town, with wider, tree-lined streets and older and more expensive dwellings.
He could have taken any one of them. He could have just circled back, but then he would have hit another CCTV camera, and Spooky had been certain there were no more sightings.
Yvonne drove slowly, trying to think of where he could be heading, keeping a sharp eye open for white vans. Common sense dictated that he hadn’t gone into the bungalow estate. It was almost exclusively owned by a housing association that dealt in retirement homes.
The East European part of town was not a likely destination either. Few locals still lived along that stretch of road. That left the upmarket area.
Yvonne pulled over for a moment or two to consider the layout of Towergate Lane and its side roads
. There were perhaps five or six of these, pleasant avenues consisting of “desirable” residences. For some reason, Yvonne was certain that here, behind someone’s “desirable” garage door, a little white van was parked.
She was just about to start her reconnoitre when she noticed a group of four or five youths huddled together on the corner of the parade of Baltic shops. Yvonne narrowed her eyes. She knew them all. They were Carborough Estate lads, and prominent among them was the leader of the gang who had threatened the Blacks and their group in Ferry Street. ‘Now, what are you boys up to, I wonder?’ she said to herself. Then she noticed their odd behaviour. They were usually a cocky bunch, all testosterone and attitude, but today they looked more like a gathering of people who’d just received bad news, or had witnessed a fatal accident.
Yvonne sat back in her seat and watched carefully. After a bit of desultory conversation, they drifted off, leaving their leader alone. He stood for a moment as if unsure of what to do. Then Yvonne saw that one side of his face was severely bruised.
She slammed the car door and hurried over. ‘Lee? A word, please. What on earth happened to you, son?’
Lee Brown stared at the pavement, his hands shoved deep in his jeans pockets. He said nothing.
‘That looks nasty. Have you had treatment for it?’
And it did look nasty. Yvonne had seen a few beatings in her time, and she knew a fractured cheekbone when she saw one. She gently said, ‘You might be a right little shit at times, Lee, but whoever did that to you needs a good talking to.’ She touched his arm lightly. ‘I’ll certainly do that if I know who to look for.’
She felt the boy flinch at her touch. His face wasn’t the only part of him to take a battering. ‘I think you could do with a lift, lad. Come on. I’ll take you to A&E and get you checked over.’
Instead of replying, the boy suddenly jack-knifed forward and retched.
Yvonne stepped back quickly. If you valued your boot leather, you got pretty good at that after years of Friday-night patrols. Then she saw the blood. ‘Okay, Lee. Sit down.’ She helped him to the ground and leaned him back against a wall, then radioed for assistance. ‘Ambulance, please. Corner of Sadler’s Parade and South Street. Name, Lee Brown, eighteen-year-old male. Collapse, following severe beating. Conscious but vomiting blood.’
