Forgotten Voices

by Jane A. Adams

  Mac nodded. ‘True,’ he said.

  ‘But?’

  ‘But the victim must have stood by the window and seen her killer walk down from the ridge and across the field and over the fence and into her garden.’

  ‘You’re assuming she hadn’t just gone over to the window.’

  ‘She’d been peeling vegetables at the sink, so it seems likely that’s where she was standing.’

  ‘And if she had seen whoever it was, isn’t she more likely to assume it’s someone who’s a bit lost and wants directions? Has just come down off the path to ask where the hell they are?’

  ‘Carrying a shotgun? Ramblers are more likely to be carrying those ski pole things or walking sticks than they are a shotgun.’

  ‘She might not have seen it?’

  ‘Or she might be so used to whoever it was carrying one that it wasn’t unusual.’

  Yolanda shrugged. ‘When do you reckon she realized he was going to shoot her?’ she asked, her tone suddenly more sombre.

  ‘From the way the body fell, right at the last minute, I’d guess. She didn’t try to run or turn, she didn’t even raise her hands – and people do, even when there’s no logical way they can defend themselves.’

  ‘So, we have to hope she didn’t have long to be afraid, then.’

  Mac looked curiously at the young officer. He nodded. ‘Let’s go down,’ he said.

  Back along the path, William Trent had listened to their conversation. They had no idea he was there, but then William Trent was good at going unnoticed. He’d had a lot of practice over the years.

  When he was certain they had gone he stood in the shadows of one of the tall trees that topped the bank and looked down at the farm. The two who had come to his house were speaking with two other officers and after a few minutes they turned to go. As he passed through the farm gate, Mac turned and looked back at the ridge and for a moment William Trent was sure the officer had seen him. Then Mac closed the gate and returned to his car.

  ‘You don’t have a clue, do you,’ William Trent asked softly as Mac and Yolanda drove away. ‘You don’t have a bloody clue.’

  NINE

  Frank Baker could be said to have drawn the short straw in that he’d been assigned to go and speak with the dead woman’s family. The truth was, he had been the obvious choice. He knew them slightly, and also he felt oddly responsible, having been the first on scene and also the first to speak with the children. He wanted to give them some sense of continuity, a familiar face.

  He was met at the door by Sally Clarke, a liaison officer from Exeter and someone Frank had known since she was ten years old. She’d been at school with Frank’s daughter. Frank had requested that DI Kendall send her.

  ‘Sally, love. How are you? Who have we got?’

  ‘The kids, the sister and the grandmother. They’re holding it together but …’

  Frank nodded and allowed Sally to lead him through into the living room and introduce him. Ellen’s sister looked a lot like her, and the grandmother, Ellen’s mother-in-law, a good deal like the child, Jebediah. The two women sat on a small sofa. They were holding hands, very tightly, the children on cushions at their feet as though they wanted at all costs to display a united front against this horror. Frank took a chair opposite, immediately feeling as though he was facing an interview panel for a particularly difficult job – one for which he hadn’t even seen the advert or the description.

  ‘Have you found anything?’ Daphne Tailor, Ellen’s mother-in-law, was the first to speak.

  ‘Nothing yet. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Who could do something like this? Ellen was—

  ‘A lovely girl,’ Daphne finished. ‘I’ve got to admit, I had my doubts about her to start with. When my Jeb said he was going to marry her, when he could have the pick of any girl round here, I gave it six months. I think we all did. But we were wrong and she proved that.’

  ‘And then your son died.’

  ‘And Ellen nursed him to the end and ran the farm and he never wanted for anything. We all pitched in, of course. All helped out, but she was the one there twenty-four-seven. She got a cancer nurse to come and sit for the last few nights, give her a bit of respite, but Jeb was scared of going away. He hated hospitals, always had, and Ellen told him she’d be there for him no matter what. And she was.’

  ‘And afterwards, when she decided to sell part of the farm. I heard there was some friction?’

  Daphne nodded. ‘I wasn’t happy but I could follow her reasoning. Ray, my other son, wanted to take it over. He said Jeb had always promised the farm to him and he was mad as hell that Jeb left everything to Ellen including control of the farm and his permission to do what she thought best. He had that written into his will, just to make certain we all knew.’

  ‘And that caused friction?’

  ‘Caused World War Three for a while,’ Daphne said. ‘Then when the farm came up for sale, Ray wanted to buy it. Thought he would get it cheap. Put all sorts of pressure on the girl.’

  ‘Pressure?’

  ‘Emotional blackmail mostly. Then he took to harassing her. Phoning and calling at all times of the day and night. Finally she came and told me what he was up to and I had a word.’

  ‘And did that stop him?’

  ‘For a while. Ray always was a stubborn bastard.’ She seemed, Frank thought, to have almost forgotten the children were there. He wondered if he should suggest they left the room, then thought better of it. He doubted anyone would agree with him.

  ‘Did he ever threaten Ellen directly?’

  ‘He didn’t kill her,’ Daphne said. ‘He and that wife of his are halfway round the world.’

  ‘They emigrated.’ Diane, Ellen’s sister spoke for the first time. ‘New Zealand. They needed money to do it, and a job to go to. He found a job and we, as a family, Ellen included, raised the money. She gave him a share when she sold the land. Most of the rest went into trust for the kids and she kept some back as a cushion against hard times. Daphne contributed too and so did I.’

  ‘So, effectively you paid him to go?’

  ‘He’s an arsehole, pure and simple,’ Daphne said. ‘It pains me to say that about my own flesh and blood, but there you go. When his dad passed, the land I’d brought in when I got married, that went to our Ray. He ran it into the ground. My dad would have been spinning in his grave. He trusted me with that land and I agreed it should go to Ray. Worst thing I ever did. And now there’s none of it left from either family except the ten or so acres Ellen hung on to and the farmhouse. But we’ll make damned sure we keep hold of that. Won’t we kids?’

  Frank looked at the children. They had made no response and he wondered how they’d all actually feel about returning to a place where they’d seen their mother’s body; their mother’s blood. He made no comment about that. Instead he asked, ‘And the land Ray owned – was that sold before he left?’

  ‘Long before. He let the Breed Estate have it for a song just to pay off his debts. I couldn’t afford to buy him out, neither could his brother. Ran it into the ground, he did. That place had been in my family for four generations, did you know that? Four generations of Baxters. When I married a Tailor my dad thought the place would be safe. The Tailors were good land managers. I feel like I’ve let him down. I feel like we’ve let them all down. Both families.’

  Frank noticed Diane clasp the other woman’s hand even harder. Noticed the pressure returned. He asked. ‘Did Ellen mention any worries? Anything out of the ordinary?’

  Diane shook her head. ‘We were close,’ she said. ‘Even though we lived miles apart. We’d speak on the phone a couple of times a week, chat on Facebook nearly every day, even if it was just a quick comment. Ellen was happy. Happier than she’d been since Jeb died.’

  ‘And did she say why?’

  Diane shrugged. ‘She just said she was finally getting over it. Getting her head back together. Felt she was making some headway. She loved Jeb so much. It took her a long time to just be
lieve he’d really gone, I think. Then when she sold the land and she managed to sell it all as a going concern, I think she felt relieved. Like she’d done the right thing and not just for her and the kids but for the herd and the land as well. After that she seemed to get better, slowly. This last few months I think she’d almost got back to her old self.’

  Daphne nodded in agreement. ‘No one would want to hurt Ellen,’ she said. ‘No one that knew her. It’s got to have been someone from outside. You hear about these things, don’t you? Serial killers that travel from place to place. People released from mental hospitals. People who are just not right in the head. Someone saw her and just decided they were going to … to do it. That’s what I think. No one that knew Ellen would hurt a hair of her head. Not even that blasted son of mine.’

  ‘So what do we have?’ DI Kendall asked. The afternoon briefing was supposed to have begun at four thirty but an RTA on the coast road had delayed the return of Frank and a couple of the others. It was now well after five.

  ‘Nothing out of the ordinary in her financials,’ an officer Mac did not know told them. ‘I spent the afternoon with her bank manager going over her account and there’s nothing that can’t be accounted for. No unusual payments going in and none out. She was methodical. Had everything she could on direct debit and had a separate account for those bills that she topped up at the start of each month. She had the account her wages were paid into, and the bit of tax credit she got and what was left over from the sale of the land a few years ago was in there. She drew housekeeping money every week so presumably paid for most things in cash. Then there was the trust fund she started for the kids. Most of what was left from the farm sale seems to have gone into that. The manager told me she started it up just after the sale. He arranged for her to see a financial advisor at the time. We had a good look at the finances from that period because it’s the last time there was any unusual activity. There was a payment of five thousand to a man called Ray Tailor. Apparently he was her brother-in-law and a further two thousand six months after. The last three years she’s had a part-time job, a bit of income from the market garden at the farm and some tax credits.’

  ‘No insurance policy when the husband died?’ Kendall asked.

  ‘Not that we could see.’

  ‘She’s on the PTA at her kids’ school,’ someone else picked up. ‘Active on other local groups like the flower-arranging committee, helps out at the youth group that meets in the church hall. And another at the Breed Estate, run by someone called Dan Marsden. From the people I talked to I got the impression that she was visible and active but not keen on being on the committees or anything like that.’

  ‘Apart from church flowers?’

  ‘Church flowers is five women. Or was, with Ellen Tailor. They’re all on the committee.’

  ‘And the children?’

  ‘The head teacher describes Megan as very bright and Jeb as good at sports and very kind. Megan’s class teacher says she tends to daydream but she does her homework and gets good marks. She’s got a couple of close friends she has sleepovers with and goes riding with.’

  ‘Riding?’ Kendall asked. ‘Expensive hobby for a woman without many resources.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. But one of Megan’s friends … um Stacy Ashdown, she lives up on the Breed Estate. Her dad is in charge of the stables. The girls get to ride the estate ponies.’

  ‘Anyone been up to the Breed Estate yet?’ Mac asked.

  ‘I have, sir.’ A young woman raised her hand and then opened her notebook. ‘Ellen Tailor worked two days a week in the farm shop and they took most of what she produced in the market garden for the hotel.’

  ‘Hotel?’

  ‘The big house on the estate. Breed Manor, got turned into an upmarket hotel and wedding venue about ten years ago,’ Kendall explained. ‘Carrie Butler lives in what used to be the Dower House. Or in part of it anyway. It’s divided in half. The estate manager and his family have the other half.’

  ‘I spoke to Carrie Butler and to Mark Jones, the estate manager,’ the young woman continued. ‘Ellen Tailor was well liked and efficient. Good with the public, they said, and she sometimes helped out in the hotel too. Carrie Butler said she’d like to give her more hours but that Ellen still had what was left of the farm to run and the kids to look after.’

  ‘And any strangers in the area, anything inconsistent? Anyone who didn’t seem to like Ellen Tailor?’

  Mac leaned back against one of the many filing cabinets lined up along the back wall and sipped the tea he had been given when he arrived and watched and listened as the picture of Ellen Tailor’s life was reconstructed. Frank Baker, having delivered his own account, sidled over to him. ‘Strikes me this is going to be a slow one,’ he said quietly.

  Mac nodded. ‘No enemies, no one who wants to speak ill of the dead. No financial irregularities, unless someone turned up a tin box under the bed and hasn’t declared it. No motive, just plenty of opportunity and what looks like a fair bit of planning. This wasn’t an impulse. This was personal, I’m sure of it.’

  Kendall was winding up the meeting.

  ‘Heading straight for home?’ he asked Frank.

  ‘I am. Our youngest and her fiancé are coming over.’

  ‘They set a date yet?’

  ‘Have they hell. Still saving, they say. Want it to be perfect, they say, though our Sal reckons they’ll get some sense and plough their money into a deposit eventually. Fortunately, they’ve both got decent jobs but even so …’

  Mac nodded. Property was getting more expensive by the day. No way he and Miriam could think of buying anywhere at least not until she was working again. Tim and Joy had only managed it because Bridie, Joy’s mother, was a woman of means, and these days most of it was even legally obtained.

  ‘I’m going to call in and see Rina on my way back,’ he said.

  ‘Ah, the redoubtable Mrs Martin.’ Frank smiled. ‘Give her my best, won’t you? And I’ll give Andy a call, see how he’s been, holding the fort.’

  ‘He’ll have been fine,’ Mac predicted. PC Andy Nevins had only been a probationer when Mac had arrived in Frantham. Now a fully fledged PC he was the last bastion of law and order in Frantham while Mac and Frank Baker were busy elsewhere, but the full flood of the tourist season was over now and Andy, Mac knew, was well capable of dealing with anything that might arise. Though he was a little resentful at missing out on the murder investigation this time around.

  ‘See you in the morning then,’ Mac said.

  He paused to catch a quick word with DI Kendall before he left. ‘Any background on William Trent?’ he asked.

  ‘No, not as yet. Any reason for asking?’

  ‘Maybe, maybe not. As you know, I got Yolanda to walk back to the farm from Trent’s place.’

  ‘She mentioned it,’ said Kendall with a grin. ‘And?’

  ‘And when I got back to the farm we went up on to the ridge, just where it meets the path. We stood up there and talked things through. Our Yolanda has an aptitude for playing devil’s advocate, doesn’t she?’

  Kendall laughed. ‘It has been remarked upon,’ he agreed. ‘Not a bad trait in a young officer though.’

  ‘True. But the thing is, I looked back once we were down at the farm and he was there, standing on the ridge. He was standing in the shadow of the trees and when he saw me looking back he dodged out of sight but he must have followed Yolanda along the path. Now why would he do that?’

  ‘Curiosity? People are, you know? Why didn’t you challenge him?’

  ‘He was up on the ridge; I was standing by the gate. Frankly, I didn’t much fancy running up that damned great hill. And what would I have said when I got there? Always supposing I’d have caught him? And, more to the point, I didn’t want to freak Yolanda out. But I will ask the question. I just want to go in armed with more knowledge of the target, if you know what I mean. The Tailor kids regarded him as a friend, so it might as you say be down to pure curiosity, or
to a feeling of impotence. His friend has been killed and he can do nothing but—’

  ‘But he’s well worth another look. I’ll give it priority in the morning. God knows we’ve got nothing else. Nothing that even looks like a lead.’

  ‘Early days,’ Mac soothed, but Kendall’s words echoed his own thoughts earlier. As Frank had said, this was going to be a slow one.

  Tim met him at the door to Peverill Lodge and ushered him inside. ‘We laid an extra place at the table just in case,’ he said. ‘Rina had a feeling you might drop in. She called Miriam but—’

  ‘She’s having a drink with new friends at the university,’ said Mac, nodding. ‘She took a bit of persuading, but I’m going to pick her up and drive her home, so she should be fine. How’s the house coming on?’

  Tim rolled his eyes. ‘We’re trying to get the furniture in before Bridie comes down next week. Joy figures if there’s no room for her to fit in any more furniture then she won’t be able to go out and buy it and we won’t have to deal with telling her it isn’t quite what we want. Though, to be fair, the table and dresser she got us are just brilliant.’

  ‘No giant sideboards, then,’ Mac joked. Bridie loved auctions and on one occasion had bought the biggest Georgian buffet Mac had ever encountered. He had to admit that it was beautifully made but the original owners would probably have owned a stately home. Bridie’s house was large but they’d still had to remove the patio doors to get it inside.

  ‘I’m not complaining, though,’ Tim added. ‘She’s been amazing.’

  A chorus of welcome greeted Mac as he entered the dining room and took what had become his usual seat at the table. Matthew was already filling a plate for him and Stephen handed him a glass of wine and placed a tumbler of water beside his plate. ‘Lovely to see you,’ Matthew intoned. ‘We’ve been following your case on the radio news.’