He drove down towards the farmhouse, reassured by the sound of car tyres crunching on the slate waste. By the time he’d left the car Mair Drake was standing by the door.
‘You got here quickly,’ she said. ‘Supper won’t be long.’
Force of habit made him point the remote at the car. He kissed her on the cheek and followed her into the house.
‘You’re working too hard,’ she said eventually. ‘You shouldn’t have to work on a Saturday.’
Drake mumbled a reply. He had mulled over how to tell his mother that he was moving to a flat that weekend. He could have told his father easily enough, or was he just thinking that because Tom Drake was no longer with them?
‘I’ve got some news,’ he said, sitting down by the kitchen table.
His mother gave him a stern look. ‘I don’t know what to expect any longer,’ she said.
‘I’m moving out tomorrow. I’ve got a flat in town.’
‘I see. Is it big enough to have Helen and Megan stay?’
‘Yes, of course.’
Mair Drake narrowed her eyes. ‘I never really thought that Sian and you were suited.’
Momentarily stunned, Drake looked at his mother. ‘You never said anything.’
‘What could I have said? You’d never have listened.’
A cloud of resentment hung over the meal as Drake thought that hindsight was the most useless emotion known to man. It was getting dark by the time he left.
Chapter 27
Drake woke early and stared at the ceiling. A gloomy light filtered through the curtains. He had barely spoken with Sian for several days and their conversation earlier that week with Helen and Megan had been the most painful experience of his life. How do you explain to young children that their parents are splitting up? He didn’t have the answer and he’d stumbled over things that he should have said, forgotten others and wanted everything to be back to normal.
Helen had given him a look that reminded him so much of how Sian could challenge everything he’d say with a simple turn of her head and a raised eyebrow. ‘There are lots of my friends in school whose parents are divorced,’ she had said, as though separation was an everyday occurrence.
He knew from his counselling that an emotional crisis in childhood could have a profound effect. He wanted to insulate Helen and Megan from any fallout, build a bubble around them so that he could protect them. A sense of guilt kept telling him that the demands of his work were the source of the guilt. Sian had thought it best that both girls stay with her mother the night before. ‘I don’t want the girls to see you packing.’ She had made it sound distant and remote.
A small part of him blamed her decision to work fulltime in the practice, as once she’d started that, the reproaches about his rituals and his absences had intensified. The house was still quiet when he left the spare bedroom and padded downstairs. He turned the volume of the television to low and switched on the kettle. He flicked through the channels without paying any attention to the various programmes, his mind distracted by Ed Mostyn. His killer had obviously been somebody who knew his movements, Drake thought. His concentration was broken as Sian entered the kitchen, already dressed.
‘I need to do some shopping.’ She made the announcement sound faintly regal. ‘Are you going to be long?’
‘I’ll text you when I’m finished, if you like.’
‘Yes, thanks.’ Sian turned on her heels and left. Although he had never admitted to Sian about the cannabis he’d smoked as a student, it struck him that smoking a joint later that evening might well appease the creeping loneliness.
He drank coffee without enthusiasm, ate a couple of pieces of toast and then showered and dressed. It took him a couple of hours to pack his belongings but he was distracted by finding old shirts and crumpled ties in the back of drawers. He agonised about which of the old clothes he should discard.
He filled the boot of his car with cases. The stereo system was wedged carefully on the rear seat between piles of clothes. Finally he loaded the car with the boxes of cutlery and crockery that Sian had put to one side in the garage. She had reminded him that he’d need to buy washing-up liquid, cleaning fluids and bleach.
Once the car was full he went back into the house, knowing that the neighbours would be intrigued. He walked around the house one more time, checking for things he might have forgotten.
Outside, he stood for a moment by the front door, before pulling it shut behind him and he rattled the door three times, always three times, just to make certain. He scanned the street; it was unusually quiet, nobody washing cars despite it being Sunday. He climbed into the Alfa and drove away.
*
It was the end of the afternoon by the time Drake parked outside the superstore. The electric kettle in the flat didn’t work, the toaster he’d seen on his first visit had disappeared and he also needed a television. He couldn’t remember ever shopping alone for domestic appliances. Drake declined the offer of help from an energetic assistant, probably no more than eighteen, who came bounding up to him as he entered.
He walked around the various counters looking at different colours of kettles, some with matching toasters. After deciding on a dark purple one he paid and took the purchases to the car before returning to choose a television.
A long row of screens showed short clips of various films and it surprised Drake how quickly technology could move on.
‘Do you play games?’ an assistant asked. His name badge said ‘Pete’.
For some reason Drake immediately thought about Kevin Spacey as an American congressman who relaxed by playing with an Xbox in the drama series House of Cards. Perhaps he should think about gaming as a hobby.
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Have you thought about the possibility of 3D?’ Pete pointed towards a bank of expensive-looking televisions. Drake occasionally watched Blu-ray films but when he saw the price of a 3D set he shook his head and walked back towards the row of gleaming screens. Pete’s tone of voice indicated that Drake was a dinosaur. Eventually, he made a decision and Pete gave him an insipid smile before trooping off towards a door that said ‘Staff Only/Stockroom’. He returned moments later carrying a large box that he took to the counter. His smile was more sincere by now.
‘Would you like an extended warranty? They are very good value for money and protect you for up to five years.’
Drake shook his head.
‘Would you be prepared to take part in a short survey? You’d have the opportunity of winning a thousand pounds.’
Drake narrowed his eyes. ‘No, thanks.’
Drake headed for the door but before he reached the exit he saw Caren walking towards him. She smiled briefly. ‘Hello, sir.’ She looked down at the box he was carrying. ‘On your own?’ She looked around for Sian.
‘Ah… Yes.’
‘Did you find what you are looking for?’ Caren sounded like one of the assistants. ‘I thought I saw earlier, when we were looking at the washing machines.’
Drake knew he should tell Caren about what was happening at home but the foyer of an electrical store hardly seemed appropriate. Over Caren’s shoulder he noticed Alun approaching. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Of course.’
Drake gave Alun a brief nod as he arrived by Caren’s side and then made for the door.
*
Alun had finished unloading the car by the time Caren had boiled the kettle. She filled an old-fashioned red teapot and placed it on the kitchen table to brew. She shouted at Alun who was still fussing in the utility room. She sat by the table, a packet of biscuits open in front of her. She had decided that they needed to continue their last conversation about starting a family. It had been something occupying more and more of her thoughts recently. And now Alun had settled into a regular fulltime job with a local company, and with her body clock ticking more loudly, she had to discuss it again.
Alun closed the door and walked over towards her. ‘That Ian Drake is a strange one.’
Caren poured tea over the milk in the mugs.
‘He saw me coming over towards you in the shop. And just buggered off.’
Caren reached for a biscuit. ‘He’s been a bit odd the past week or so.’
‘He could have stayed to say hello.’
‘He was looking at the kettles and toasters earlier. Bit odd seeing him there on his own.’
Caren took a mouthful of digestive.
Alun continued. ‘I’d say he was odd all the time.’
‘He does have his good points.’
‘And they are?’
‘Well…’
Alun laughed and then slurped a mouthful of tea.
Caren tried not to sound serious. ‘I wanted to talk to you about…’
‘What?’
‘You know, about starting a family.’
Caren paused.
‘Last time we didn’t come to any decision. It just… I don’t know, it just sort of petered out. But now with you back working fulltime, I thought… And I know that there might be problems. And we would have a lot to plan.’
He reached a hand over the table and held hers.
‘My parents could help and I want to have children whilst we’re still young enough,’ Caren said.
She stopped and stared at Alun. He smiled back. ‘I’m sorry things haven’t worked out over the past couple of years—’
‘And the WPS are very flexible about working arrangements.’
‘Caren.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘I agree.’
‘Things might not work out anyway.’
‘Let’s not waste any time,’ Alun said, smiling broadly.
Chapter 28
An unfamiliar sound drifting up from the street outside woke Drake early and for a moment he couldn’t place his surroundings. He got up, showered and dressed. The flat was quiet and he missed the noise from Helen and Megan eating breakfast, preparing for school. Deciding that he’d call them tonight didn’t make him feel less lonely, but lessened the guilt marginally.
Leaving the flat, he smiled briefly at a smartly dressed young couple on the stairwell. The man gave him a brief nod of acknowledgement. He walked the short distance down a side street to his car and then drove to headquarters. It unsettled him to take an unfamiliar route so he made an unnecessary detour to the regular newsagent, where he bought a paper.
He had decided after seeing Caren the day before that he needed to tell her about his personal circumstances. Only the barest details of course. And he’d need to speak to Superintendent Price.
Drake wanted that Monday morning to feel like a new start. At least now they had the name of Dylan South and it would only be a matter of time until they’d find him. And he hoped that would be true for Sue Pritchett as well. Perhaps she would know how Jane had come by fistfuls of money and, more importantly, where it had gone.
No sooner had Drake arrived at his office and put the newspaper, folded open at the Sudoku page, on the corner of his desk, than the telephone rang. The voice immediately frayed his nerves.
‘Good morning Ian,’ Kate French said. ‘How are you this morning?’ The question was full of implications and immediately Drake thought that she knew about his personal circumstances; perhaps Price had shared a confidence with her at the dinner on Saturday night– needed counselling after a difficult case– not certain he’s got over everything yet.
‘Good morning.’
‘Wyndham tells me you’re making some progress.’
Drake’s jaw tightened. Speaking to French was the last thing he wanted on a Monday morning.
‘I hear there might be some challenging lines of enquiry.’
What the hell did she mean by that?
‘Challenging,’ Drake repeated. ‘Building a picture of the victims is an important part of our job. Unless we’ve got that we can’t start on identifying possible perpetrators.’
‘I’m sure you appreciate the sensitivities of this case. Mr and Mrs Higham have made contact with the power company. It seems that Ed Mostyn hadn’t made a will, so his sister is entitled to his estate.’
‘And that means she can sell the land.’
‘Yes, of course. And the adjacent owners will then be able to sell their land. I’m sure Mrs Enid Evans will be very pleased.’
Drake was a fraction of a second from saying something he’d later regret about how pleased Mrs Evans would be to have lost her husband.
‘So the nuclear power station will proceed according to plan. But all of this is very confidential. There’s been no public announcement. They’ve got to wait for the lawyers to draw up the papers.’
Drake’s grip was tightening around the handset. He wanted to know exactly what this woman knew, exactly what she wasn’t telling him.
‘Do keep me posted,’ French said cheerily before finishing the call.
Drake stood up in a temper. A murder investigation can’t take second place to the sale of piece of land, Drake thought, getting angrier by the minute.
He refocused his mind on the tasks in hand as the telephone rang again, breaking his concentration. He didn’t hide the annoyance in his voice. ‘Drake.’
It was Caren. ‘We’ve traced Sue Pritchett.’
*
Parking on the promenade in Llandudno would be difficult so Drake found a side street with no restrictions. Caren had kept up a regular commentary on the investigation as they drove the short distance from headquarters. It meant he had little need to contribute to the conversation and for that he was grateful. He nudged the car into a space and they headed on foot towards the seafront. Walking past the entrance to the Great Orme tramway, they passed a queue of families with young children. Drake made a mental note to add the attraction to his to-do list with Helen and Megan.
They reached the end of the street and looked down towards the water’s edge. It was a glorious, hot late-summer afternoon; Drake squinted against the sun reflecting off the sand and the wide expanse of the concrete boulevard. Elderly couples ambled hand in hand, disabled scooters threaded their way through the tourists and young families with children thronged the beach.
Briskly they strode towards the hotel where Sue Pritchett was working. A discreet telephone call before they’d left headquarters had already established that she was working that morning. The website had said it was a boutique hotel and there were photographs of luxurious bedrooms, expansive bathrooms and a small opulent dining room.
The receptionist gave Drake a broad perfect-teeth smile, after she peered at his warrant card and then at Caren’s. She disappeared into an office and moments later returned to reassure him that Sue would be with him shortly.
A couple in their fifties with healthy tans, generous waistlines and expensive-looking luggage arrived in reception to check out. Drake and Caren moved down towards the entrance door where he read the room rates, realising that guests would need deep pockets.
A young woman emerged from the office behind reception and Drake saw her mumbling apologies to the departing guests, as she looked over in his direction. Her make-up was precise, her hair drawn back into a bun and she had orange-framed glasses. She was tall with broad shoulders and a narrow face.
‘Sue Pritchett,’ she said, holding out a hand after reaching Drake.
‘Is there somewhere we can talk in private?’ Drake said.
‘Of course.’ She knows why we’ve called, Drake thought and a glance shared with Caren told him she agreed. Pritchett led them into a small office at the back of the building.
‘We are investigating the death of Jane Jones,’ Drake said, sitting down.
Pritchett said nothing, giving them both a wary gaze.
Drake continued. ‘And we have spoken to Tracy and to Becky.’ He looked over at Pritchett, but the expression on her face hadn’t changed.
‘Both of your friends are prepared to make statements that could result in prosecutions. It’s important that we have a complete picture. Becky says you were involved as well.’
; Pritchett sat upright, her hands folded neatly on her lap. ‘Jane never wanted to complain. She wanted to hide it all away. And now maybe I want to do the same. I hate those men for what they did to me and to the others.’ She had a cultured accent, crisp vowels, almost elongated, certainly not the average product of a Welsh education.
‘Who was involved?’
‘That’s where they were clever. We were kept apart, at least most of the time. But I know that the Evans man who killed himself was involved. They liked me because I spoke differently from the other girls who’d been brought up on the island. When my parents split up my mother came to live on Anglesey. I hated the place, still do.’
‘Can you remember any names?’
Pritchett folded her arms, crossing one leg over the other. ‘Of course. There was a slob of a man called Somerset de Northway but I only knew his name after I’d seen his picture in the paper. The others were local.’
‘Would you remember their faces? Caren made her first contribution before reaching into her bag for the photographs.
‘Maybe.’
Caren handed her the Cambrian Club images and they watched as Pritchett scanned each in turn. ‘That’s de Northway. And this other man was involved,’ she said, pointing to Fairburn’s face.
‘When did you see Jane last?’ Drake said.
‘Last month.’
Drake hesitated, nonplussed by the answer. ‘Where did you see her?’
‘She came to town. I told her I was going to go to the police. But she pleaded for me not to do so. She said she had money, over ten thousand pounds, and then she offered me some of it to keep quiet.’
Drake glanced at Caren, an anxious look on her face.
‘Did she tell you where she got the money from?’
‘No. And I didn’t ask. Then she said she was going away. Leaving Anglesey – she had a boyfriend. They were going to start a new life together.’
Against the Tide Page 20
