Cambridge Blue

by Alison Bruce

  Bryn liked to think he could take things in his stride – tackle new obstacles running – roll with the punches. Fine in theory, but the last twenty-four hours had demonstrated that his everyday life hadn’t, up until now, been very challenging. It had been hours since his Zodiac had ground to a halt, but it was only as he and Gary stepped back out into Petty Cury that his world finally stopped spinning. And it felt better that way.

  ‘I’m sorry I lied,’ he said and retrieved his mobile from his pocket. He hoped that sharing it with Gary might keep the brakes fully engaged. ‘I had a text from her last night.’

  ‘From Victoria?’

  ‘It arrived while I was waiting to be towed, but I was too pissed off to look at it until I’d got the car safely back.’ Bryn opened the message, but couldn’t bring himself to read it again.

  He passed the phone to Gary.

  ‘You didn’t take it seriously?’ Gary asked.

  ‘I didn’t know what to make of it. I never thought it really meant she was, you know . . .’

  ‘Dead?’

  ‘Yep.’ Bryn tried to push the thought away. He wanted to ask how she’d died but, at the same time, he guessed he didn’t really want to find out. So he shoved his hands into his pockets and stayed quiet.

  ‘I suppose your trip down the M11 is your only alibi?’

  ‘Won’t that do?’

  ‘It depends on the precise timings.’

  Bryn felt his stomach make an uneasy shift. ‘I wouldn’t hurt anyone.’

  ‘I want to believe you.’ Gary smiled, but Bryn wasn’t too blind to see the melancholy behind it.

  ‘Sure, and I want you to. And I also want the patron saint of panel-beaters to pop the dent out of my Zodiac’s wing, but things like that only happen when you make them.’

  ‘You mean, you make your own luck?’

  ‘Exactly.’ Bryn said it with more bravado than he felt.

  Gary seemed to be thinking things over. ‘What was supposed to be in Victoria’s diary?’

  ‘She called it “intimate” and said it would be humiliating if anyone else read it.’

  ‘And you believed her?’

  ‘Why not? She wasn’t very inhibited, I’m sure she did some wild stuff in the past.’

  ‘But she didn’t seem the apologetic type. I can’t imagine her feeling humiliated by exposure.’

  They were within a couple of hundred yards of the police station and Bryn was aware that he was now walking more slowly. He didn’t want to sit in some soulless interview room sharing the details of his last twenty-four hours with a complete stranger.

  ‘Anyway,’ Gary pointed ahead, ‘we’re here now and it doesn’t matter about the diary. I was more interested in your reasons for believing her. And I think you’ve been very gullible.’

  That comment stung and Bryn suddenly felt indignant. ‘No, remember she worked with Richard and Alice Moran on a day-to-day basis. I can understand she would have felt humiliated if it had all come out. Most normal people would find that situation pretty kinky.’

  Gary scowled. ‘What are you on about?’ Just then his mobile rang, but he made no move to answer it.

  Bryn hesitated, then replied, just as Gary reached into his jacket after all.

  FORTY

  Bryn’s most recent words echoed something else Goodhew had heard, but he just couldn’t place what it was. He struggled to retrieve the memory, but it was wedged on the edge of his subconscious.

  And his mobile was still ringing. He wanted to ignore it, but knew he would find it too distracting. He finally answered, planning to promise to ring the caller back. But the voice at the other end was Mel’s, and his intended words caught in his throat just long enough for her to start to deliver the message.

  She sounded awkward, or maybe he imagined she did. ‘You have an urgent message from a woman. It’s personal, she said, and made me promise to pass it on straight away.’ She paused. ‘OK?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘She wants you to ring her on her mobile about a horse called Suze.’

  He waited for more, but there wasn’t any. ‘That’s it?’

  ‘What else were you expecting, something about a boy named Sue?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The song? Oh, never mind.’ She sounded embarrassed now. ‘I was being silly. Sorry.’

  ‘OK, fine. I’ll call her.’ He knew he sounded brusque, but he couldn’t help it. ‘I’m just about to drop off Bryn O’Brien at the station. Ring DI Marks immediately and let him know.’

  He slipped the phone back into his pocket and concentrated on Bryn. ‘Did you just say something about “Victoria and the dad”?’

  Bryn managed a combination of shrugging, nodding and looking apprehensive. ‘Victoria was going out with old man Moran till he died. You didn’t know?’

  ‘No one mentioned it. So what else do you know about them?’

  ‘Nothing except that he was rich and she was gorgeous. I think it was what’s called mutually beneficial.’

  ‘Right. You sure?’

  ‘Ask the Morans.’

  Goodhew nodded, still fighting for that elusive memory. ‘And what did you say just before that?’

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘Come on, I said you’d been pretty gullible, and you said . . .’

  ‘Oh yeah, yeah, I was just saying that working with the Morans would make any sexy stuff between her and the dad more embarrassing, especially as her best mate was shagging his son.’

  Goodhew snapped his fingers as he finally got it. ‘No, you didn’t say “sexy”. You said “kinky”.’

  ‘And?’

  Goodhew tapped Bryn’s arm. ‘And we’ve been loitering outside for too long. Time to get in and help us with our enquiries.’

  FORTY-ONE

  Goodhew accompanied Bryn as far as the main entrance, confident that Bryn wasn’t stupid enough to abscond through the rear door.

  He then rang Mel again. ‘One more thing,’ he said without preamble. ‘Marks has the Joanne Reed case notes in his office. I’ll be back shortly, so please get them ready and I’ll grab them on my way past.’

  ‘OK,’ she said.

  ‘It’s urgent,’ he added.

  ‘Fine,’ she replied, probably thinking he was lazy for not doing it himself. He thought he probably was. He had nothing else to add, so he just hung up. Now he’d be arrogant, as well as lazy.

  He was still standing at the top of the steps leading into Parkside station as he rang Jackie Moran’s mobile. Looking towards the city centre as he put the phone to his ear, he noticed that her RAV4 was parked in the nearest of the metered bays to his right. He could make out the shape of someone sitting in the driver’s seat, but he couldn’t tell if it was Jackie Moran herself. But then, as the phone began to ring, he saw her step on to the pavement in the same instant as he heard her voice. ‘Thanks for phoning me,’ she said.

  ‘Stay there,’ he said and hung up.

  Today she was wearing navy-blue jodhpurs and a dark-green pullover, making him wonder how often she dressed for anywhere but a visit to the stables. She had a large manila envelope pressed to her chest with her arms wrapped around it, like high school girls held their books in 1950s teen movies.

  Two things had altered, though. Firstly she was dogless and secondly, even from a distance, he could see a marked change in her body language. She stood on the path with feet planted squarely and, as he came closer, he saw she had a resolute expression to match her stance.

  ‘Why the coded message?’ he asked.

  ‘I didn’t want to be fobbed off with anyone else,’ she replied.

  ‘Look, it all depends what you’re going to say, but I can’t promise that I will be allowed to deal with it.’

  ‘I’ve made a decision, and now all I want is some moral support. I think I can trust you?’

  ‘Sure, but . . .’

  She took a deep breath. ‘Don’t spoil it. I want support, not an accomplice.’

  ‘All I was abo
ut to say is that my authority is practically zero. I’m still a junior officer.’

  ‘Determination outranks rank, you know.’

  Goodhew gave a short laugh. ‘Everyone’s a philosopher today. Let’s sit down somewhere, and you can show me what’s in the envelope, and then I’ll either take a statement or stay with you while you repeat it to my superior. Is that suitably supportive?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ She started to walk towards Parkside station. ‘I think I may as well talk to you inside, as I don’t think this will be quick.’

  Mel must have seen him arrive because she was already waiting with Joanne Reed’s case notes. She silently passed them over and he thanked her. He tried to make eye contact, too, but she just turned away again.

  Two rooms further along the corridor from Mel’s desk was an unoccupied office containing nothing but two chairs and a small desk, but with a large window overlooking the rear car park. Goodhew decided that it was the ideal place and the window clinched it.

  The rear of the desk was set against the wall and they sat along the other side, facing each other. ‘Before we go any further,’ Goodhew began, ‘I need to know something about Joanne Reed.’

  Jackie looked towards the ceiling as if trying to recall where she’d heard that name. ‘The girl that disappeared from university?’ She was trying to sound vague or surprised, or both. In fact, she managed neither.

  ‘Did you know her?’ Goodhew asked.

  ‘No.’ The answer was of the not-up-for-debate-definitely-not type. He didn’t believe her, but decided to move on. His folder lay on his lap, Jackie’s envelope tantalizingly close to him on the desktop.

  ‘OK then,’ he said. ‘Fire away.’

  ‘I’ve heard about the new murder.’

  ‘What do you know, exactly?’

  ‘That there’s a connection to Lorna.’ Colour briefly flushed her cheeks, and then was gone. ‘Is it Victoria?’

  Goodhew gave a small nod. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know her too well, but . . .’ Her sentence drifted into silence. ‘I’ve realized it’s time to talk to you, because I killed Colin Willis.’ She put her hand on the envelope, not to pass it over, more to hold on to it. ‘Your tests would have shown that the dog fur was Bridy’s in any case.’

  ‘So why not tell us at the time?’

  Jackie turned her face away, and seemed to be frowning at the desktop. Her expression remained unchanged through several minutes, even when she looked up again. ‘I was still trying to understand it all,’ she said. ‘I thought it was over, so I didn’t realize that there was any urgency. Then, with this other death, I knew I was wrong.’

  Goodhew suspected that her earlier show of confidence had been brought on by nothing more than the decision to act. Since entering the room, her skin had lost its former colour and her expression had changed into the sluggishness of perpetual shock. He wanted her to keep talking so that her resolve to tell all didn’t diminish. ‘How well did you know Willis?’

  ‘I didn’t. I’d seen him hanging around on the footpath beside the river several times. I only noticed him in the first place because his presence there made me feel slightly uncomfortable. But you know, by the time he attacked me, I’d convinced myself that I was being paranoid. I walked past him and he suddenly grabbed my throat.’ As if to illustrate it, she put her hand to her own throat. She closed her eyes as she recounted the attack. By the time she had described Colin Willis’ body disappearing into the Cam, she was still clenching her own neck and breathing hard.

  Goodhew reached forward and gently pulled her hand away. She opened her eyes and gulped in just enough air to calm herself. When she spoke again she sounded hoarse. ‘I’m not sorry I killed him, because I don’t think I had any choice. But I’m sorry I didn’t call for help. I know I should have made a statement at the time. I still have nightmares about it. I have nightmares about everything. And I’ve regretted it so many times. I know I should have told you at the time you took those fur samples from Bridy.’

  ‘Why didn’t you?’

  ‘For the same reason I slid his body into the river.’

  ‘I thought that was on impulse?’

  ‘It was . . . when I saw the knife I realized that he’d been planning to kill me. It didn’t seem at all random, then, but like someone had put him up to it, and that’s what I couldn’t deal with. And I thought if I came forward, no one would believe me. In that moment I thought that, just by getting rid of him, I wouldn’t have to face up to the truth that someone, probably someone I know, actually wanted me dead.’

  ‘Like who?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Jackie bit one side of her bottom lip and stared at him.

  Goodhew felt as though she was weighing him up, having second thoughts about telling him this. ‘But you have some information, you say?’

  Her gaze moved away from him and fixed itself on the envelope. For the first time, tears welled in her eyes. ‘I’ve had it for weeks.’ She passed him the envelope. ‘But I didn’t know it would lead to all of this.’

  ‘You had it before Lorna died?’

  She nodded.

  ‘And when she was murdered, you still didn’t think you needed to come forward?’

  Again colour rose in her cheeks but, this time, spread with enough intensity to reach her temples. ‘I didn’t think there was a connection. I just thought . . . oh, I don’t know, maybe that she was the victim of a random attack.’

  ‘Until you heard that there had been another death?’ He slid his hand into the envelope. It was the kind that had gusseted sides and had been slightly puffed out, and looked fat enough to contain a sheaf of papers, so he was surprised to find only one sheet.

  She nodded again and rubbed her face with the heel of her hand. ‘I’m sorry.’

  He laid the page on to the table in front of him. It was A5 size, and made from a flimsy cream paper, the sort that can sound like a crisp hundred decibels when it’s the only sound in an empty room. It had been written on by a dark-blue ball-point pen. The handwriting was angular and erratic, and had been applied with sufficient force to cause the imprint of the words subsequently written on the back of the page to interfere with reading the words on the front.

  ‘Do you recognize the writing?’

  ‘Read it,’ she whispered. ‘You’ll see.’

  It started mid-sentence:

  so drained. All these successive entries of ‘nothing to note, nothing to note’. I watched the hare and ignored the tortoise.

  Alice was full of anger today. It is the same cold temper that she’s always had, but today was the first time I’ve noticed it directed at her own sister. I should have known, her love for Richard . . . Jealousy is a dark and irrational beast.

  I have been obsessively documenting one scenario, thinking that I can contain the problem when, in reality, I may have given free rein to the genuine demon. Only circumstance, and not my intervention, has stopped further deaths occurring.

  When I face God, I hope he forgives me, I have been so selfish.

  Then there was a small gap before the writing continued.

  Despite yesterday’s low, I have made the decision to continue this journal. I love them all, regardless of any flaws. I believe I have been right, and wrong, in equal measures.

  Of course, I’m just as scared for Jackie as I’ve always been, but I will speak to Alice, because I’m sure she would never harm her own sister.

  Goodhew read it twice. There were no dates and no clue to the author’s identity. ‘Your father?’ he guessed.

  She nodded. ‘He was a compulsive list scribbler, one of those people that seemed unable to think without a pen in his hand.’

  ‘And this was the only page you’ve seen?’

  ‘Yes. I don’t know what it was torn out of either.’

  ‘How did you get it?’

  ‘I found it at the farm the day Colin Willis tried to kill me. I suppose I was in shock, but I still had to go over and see to the hor
ses. It was in the stable, the one with the bales where we sat. I took Suze out for a couple of hours, and found it when I returned.’

  ‘You think someone deliberately left it while you were out with her?’

  Jackie’s left elbow was resting on the table, and her left palm was propping up her head at the temple. He wondered whether her brain was starting to hurt. His certainly was.

  ‘It may have been there already, I really don’t know.’

  ‘What does he mean by further deaths? It implies someone had already died.’

  She blew out a long, slow sigh. ‘I don’t understand that bit.’

  ‘OK. Are you saying that you think Alice may have hired Colin Willis?’

  She dropped her hand away from her face and sounded surprised. ‘No, of course not. That’s not what I meant. The note implies that she hates me, and it’s true we’re not close, but I think it was just left there to frame her. If I had been killed, it would have been found there, and she would have been investigated, wouldn’t she?’

  ‘Undoubtedly, so the next question is who could have taken it from your father?’

  Her eyes opened wider. ‘I don’t know about any casual visitors, but I’d say the main suspectswould have been the three of us—’

  ‘You, Richard and Alice?’

  ‘Yes, and Victoria.’

  ‘So you knew that your father dated Victoria?’

  ‘Of course. It was common knowledge.’ He saw a glint of amusement spring on to her face. ‘They even went out together in public.’

  ‘You never mentioned Victoria and your father.’

  ‘Because you were investigating Lorna’s background then – why would I?’

  ‘So how did you feel about her?’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘She was only about your age and having an affair with your dad, wasn’t that weird?’

  ‘No, I barely knew her. In any case, my father would just have told me to mind my own business.’

  ‘And what about Richard and Alice? They actually worked with her.’

  She shrugged. ‘I doubt they were much bothered – but even if they were, Richard’s never had my father’s ear so he couldn’t have influenced anything, and Alice would have kept her thoughts to herself.