Against the Tide

by Stephen Puleston

  ‘How did she seen?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Was she frightened?’

  ‘I don’t think so…’

  Drake leant forward in his chair, stared at Pritchett and then spoke slowly. ‘I need you to remember everything about your discussion with Jane.’

  *

  An hour later Drake and Caren sat in a café in the middle of Llandudno, coffees on the table in front of them in round mugs emblazoned with a fancy Italian-looking logo.

  ‘So where did Jane Jones get all that money from?’ Caren said.

  Drake stirred a spoon through his Americano. ‘We’ll need to go back through the bank accounts of Mostyn and Evans. And then those belonging to Fairburn and de Northway in due course. Somebody paid her off.’

  ‘And then had a change of heart?’

  ‘Looks like it.’

  ‘Where’s the money gone?’

  ‘Back to its source I’d guess.’

  The new evidence from Pritchett would make the investigation even more challenging. They had the corroboration they needed. Fairburn could be interviewed – Drake would notify Price as soon as they were back in headquarters before calling Sergeant Robinson of the SOCP team. And telling Price that they had direct evidence to implicate de Northway in historic sex offences was on the top of Drake’s list. That prospect brought a smile to his lips. Caren took her first noisy mouthful of coffee; usually it would have grated but that lunchtime he sat back, unaffected.

  ‘So what next, sir?’

  ‘We get Fairburn in for an interview under caution and search his house.’

  ‘And de Northway.’

  ‘Fairburn first.’

  Getting Price to sanction arresting de Northway might have to wait.

  Their lunch arrived and Caren smothered her plate, full of fish and chips, with tomato ketchup. Drake had settled on a tuna sandwich with a side salad littered with red and green peppers. The café was full of retired couples eating food without saying anything to each other, staring blankly into space. Caren made the occasional comment through a mouthful of food, the habit that Drake hated. Although he thought that his personal circumstances were nothing to do with Caren, he judged that it would be sensible to tell her; he waited until she’d finished.

  ‘Just thought you ought to know that Sian and I split up.’

  Caren blinked a couple of times, but there wasn’t surprise or shock at the revelation on her face. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said eventually.

  There wasn’t much more that she could say. They finished the rest of their coffees in silence until Drake’s mobile rang.

  It was headquarters. ‘There’s someone in reception for you.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Asked for you. Said it was about the inquiry into Ed Mostyn.’

  ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

  They paid and left the café and returned to headquarters. Drake made his way over to the reception desk where one of the staff read from her screen. ‘It’s Mr Jessop. He’s sitting over there.’ She gazed over towards a faux leather sofa. Drake walked over and extended a hand.

  ‘Mr Jessop? Detective Inspector Drake. How can I help?’

  ‘Daniel Jessop. Are you in charge of the Ed Mostyn investigation? It’s just that I might have something of relevance.’

  Drake led Jessop into a small conference room and force of habit made him put his mobile on the table. Jessop was about five foot six with a strong jaw and an athletic build. His hair brushed his ears and he had a deep tan.

  He sat down and drew an envelope from the inside pocket of a jacket which had a padded fleece around the neck. ‘I’ve had this letter,’ he said, holding it up in his right hand. ‘I know it was written a couple of weeks ago. But I’ve been away. I do a lot of professional sailing.’

  ‘What letter?’

  ‘The one from you asking about a will for Ed Mostyn. It was signed Detective Constable Howick. I’m sorry, I should explain. I run a small legal practice. I do non-contentious work mostly. Some property work, but mostly looking after people’s affairs once they’ve died. It leaves me enough time for my sailing. And I write the occasional will.’

  Drake moved nearer the table and focused on Jessop.

  ‘And last year Ed Mostyn instructed me to prepare a will for him.’

  ‘Have you got a copy?’ Drake sounded impatient.

  ‘That’s the odd thing. I can recall making the will. He was going to leave everything to a charity. One of those environmental lobbying outfits. And he was very specific about leaving a legacy of £5,000 to a man called Eifion Cooper. I remember it quite distinctly because he gave me a long story about how Eifion Cooper had helped him out years ago and he’d never properly repaid him.’

  ‘Where’s the will now?’

  ‘I sent the will to him for signature. I’m sure I sent all my usual forms, telling him how to have the will signed.’

  ‘Did he confirm that the will had been signed?’

  ‘I never heard from him. I know that he paid my bill.’

  Drake fiddled with his mobile. ‘Do you have a copy? I’ll need your original file of course.’

  ‘That’s the other odd thing. I can’t find it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I can’t find it anywhere. We had a breakin recently but I didn’t think any files had gone missing. After all, who would want to steal clients’ papers?’

  ‘But you must have records on your computer.’

  ‘I’ve looked there too. The file has gone.’

  ‘Did anyone else have access to your office?’

  ‘Apart from my staff, no. Our auditors have been in and we’ve had an inspection by the Solicitors Regulation Authority.’

  ‘I’ll need a list of all your staff. And did you report the burglary?’

  ‘Of course. A Detective Constable Adam Jones dealt with it.’

  Drake scribbled down the details; one of the team could retrieve the papers.

  Jessop promised to email a list of his staff and left Drake thinking about Eifion Cooper and the smell of raw fish, Catherine de Northway and how everything fitted together.

  Chapter 29

  The following morning it wasn’t the smell of raw fish that hit Drake’s nostrils but the smell of newly cut grass. It always brought back such strong memories of childhood that he idled by the turning for the lane leading to Tyddyn Du and watched the reed bed swaying gently in the late summer breeze. To his left a man sat astride a tractor lawn mower, circling a large meadow.

  It was the regular changes of the seasons that reminded him of his grandfather and the patterns of his life. There was simplicity to the farming life that appealed to Drake, especially when he thought about the certainties that his grandparents had. He wondered how they had dealt with estrangement or bereavement, before realising that if he had learnt anything in the police force it was that human nature never changes.

  Tyddyn Du still looked a miserable place to live. A permanent cloud of despondency seemed to hang over the place. He powered the car ahead and made for the turning up the lane to the farmhouse. He spotted Huw Jones tramping the fields in his purposeful lopsided gait. Caren was back at headquarters although Drake had arranged to meet her later in Crecrist Hall, and in an odd way he had missed her conversation on the journey over the island.

  He parked the car and got out. His skin tingled in the warmth of the sun after the air-conditioning of the car. He glanced over at the house but saw no movement. He strode out in the direction that Huw had been headed. Drake could see that the field was badly maintained from the little he remembered of his father’s farming. The ditches were choked with weeds and Drake imagined that in winter the land could be waterlogged. Fences topped with barbed wire needed repairing, long lengths offering no protection for livestock. The Jones family was making it easy for Somerset de Northway to make a claim for possession.

  Drake clambered over a rotten wooden gate to reach the field where Huw was wor
king on some of the fences. Looking down the field, Drake saw the sea beyond the field boundary. He had assumed that the murders were linked but the possibility became very real that Jane and Mostyn had been killed by different people. And was he now looking at her killer? He walked down to Huw, who noticed Drake when he was within a few yards and stopped working, stood up and stretched his back slowly. He took off a pair of suede working gloves that he stuffed into a pocket.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘It must be a lot of work, repairing all these fences.’

  ‘Yes. I suppose it is.’

  ‘Does your father help?’

  ‘Not much. Not any longer. And the de Northways’ land agent is here all the time. Interfering.’

  In the distance he could faintly make out a chimney of Crecrist Hall. Drake could easily imagine how poor land like Tyddyn Du could be turned into one giant solar farm. What did de Northway say? – Green energy. Gets my vote all the time. And he was planning to get a lot of cash as well, Drake thought.

  ‘Why did you lie to me?’ Drake said. ‘You told me that you had last seen Jane here in the house the night she died.’

  Huw stared back at Drake.

  ‘You were in the club in Rhosneigr. That’s where you saw her last. And you had an argument with her.’

  Huw stiffened.

  ‘What did you argue about?’

  ‘She was running around with lots of men. She was nothing more than a whore.’ He spat out the last words.

  The words sounded old-fashioned, more likely to have come from Ray Jones.

  ‘Why did you argue with Julian Sandham?’

  ‘He wouldn’t leave her alone. They’re all the same, lads like that. She just couldn’t see it.’

  ‘There was an incident earlier this year with Ed Mostyn, when you assaulted him.’

  ‘I wasn’t charged.’

  ‘Come on. You know that was a technicality.’

  Huw folded his arms tightly and stared at Drake.

  ‘So why did you lie to me?’

  Huw jolted his head towards the farmhouse after a moment’s delay. ‘He doesn’t know I go there. He’d make my life hell if he ever found out.’

  For a moment it occurred to Drake that Ray Jones had already made Huw’s life wretched. He looked over at Huw – there was something unbearably joyless about him. An interview under caution in the police station would have to wait for another day.

  *

  Catherine de Northway tilted her head upwards, blew out a long plume of cigarette smoke and then coughed loudly. She held the hand that was holding the cigarette in an exaggerated pose that reminded Caren of an actor from some vintage film. But what Caren also noticed were her large hands. Not only were her fingers long but her hands were broad and chunky. The flesh of one finger had expanded around a wedding band. Caren couldn’t remember the exact words in the pathologist’s report on the death of Jane Jones but it had made quite clear that Jane’s assailant had strong hands.

  Caren had been pleased when Drake had agreed that she conduct the interview with Catherine de Northway and it had been lucky that they had arrived when Somerset de Northway was out.

  ‘We need to speak to you about Maldwyn Evans,’ Caren said.

  De Northway drew heavily on the cigarette. Two columns of smoke poured out of her nose and Caren resisted the urge to waft her hand in the air.

  ‘Poor man. Terrible way to go.’

  ‘How well did you know him?’

  She shrugged. Noncommittal, good sign of a lie coming, Caren thought.

  ‘Did you meet him socially?’

  ‘I can’t remember. Somerset would know – shall we wait for him to get home?’

  Caren noticed Drake fidgeting with a file of papers by her side.

  ‘Did you meet him professionally?’

  Caren sat back a fraction, gauging how de Northway would respond. She is calculating what we know, Caren thought.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Tell me about your relationship with Maldwyn Evans.’ Caren’s voice was a little too direct.

  ‘He came to one or two of our parties.’

  Drake adjusted his position and let out a brief cough. Caren stared at de Northway, reading every movement of her eyes and face. It wasn’t the answer they expected and Caren’s initial reaction was to doubt that Evans had been anywhere near any of the de Northway ‘parties’.

  ‘When was that?’

  Another shrug. Another deep drag on the cigarette followed by another relieving cough.

  ‘Is this helpful? Only I’m very busy and I’ve got a thousand and one things to do.’

  Caren sat back. This was her interview; she would conduct it in any way that she wanted and Catherine de Northway wasn’t going to irritate her anymore.

  ‘Catherine, have you been completely honest with us about your relationship with Evans?’

  Using her Christian name caught de Northway off guard and she frowned briefly then rearranged the material of her skirt lying on her knees, avoiding eye contact.

  ‘It’s very important for our investigation that we have all the information we need and that we get the background relationships between everyone quite clear. Individuals who fail to cooperate only raise suspicions in our mind. And all of that points to guilt, of course.’

  Caren had got into her stride now. Catherine de Northway was guilty, she just knew it. She reached into the folder.

  ‘And we know that you had a business relationship with Maldwyn Evans. You were a partner in his business or you invested money into the farm as your name is mentioned in the accounts for his business.’

  ‘Am I a suspect?’ Her voice was slow and full of contempt.

  ‘Are you prepared to answer my questions?’

  De Northway took another pull of her cigarette and looked down her nose at Caren. ‘I want my lawyer to be present.’

  *

  Drake’s desk had all the usual Post-it notes in their neat and tidy order when he arrived back. He looked over at the photographs of Helen and Megan. He reached over to adjust the position of each but instead of moving them a few millimetres he picked each one up and looked at them carefully in turn. He smiled to himself as he recalled the holiday in France where the images had been taken.

  Caren had been delayed by traffic and arrived a few minutes after him. Drake replaced the frames and sat back as his colleague came into the office.

  ‘She’s hiding something.’ Caren sat down in one of the visitor chairs.

  Drake nodded.

  ‘She’s lying and she’s devious,’ Caren continued.

  ‘She could have killed Jane. Did you see the size of her hands? Somerset de Northway is near the scene of Ed Mostyn’s death. So it would have been easy for Somerset to have killed him. They get the cottage back and with Tyddyn Du likely to be empty their plans for the solar farm can proceed.’

  ‘And in the meantime Jane tries to blackmail Somerset de Northway.’

  ‘Catherine de Northway has a business relationship with Evans.’

  ‘Just business?’ Caren had a questioning look in her eyes.

  ‘With Mostyn out of the way she can collect on her investment. All very convenient. In the morning I want as much information on Catherine de Northway as we can get. Everything. Then I’ll go and get authority from Superintendent Price for an arrest.’

  ‘Two arrests, boss?’

  Drake looked over at Caren. ‘That’s right.’

  Drake stayed at his desk for another hour reviewing the paperwork and rehearsing the various arguments he’d put to Price that would justify the arrest of Somerset and Catherine de Northway. As a precaution he rang Hannah to check the superintendent’s diary.

  ‘It’ll have to be early afternoon,’ she said.

  They fixed a time and Drake left headquarters.

  He collected shopping on the way home to his flat and made a meal without much enthusiasm. Then he rang Helen and Megan and spoke to both girls. He wondered how l
ong it would take him to become accustomed to monosyllabic answers to his questions about their day and their friends at school. He watched the evening news but afterwards he didn’t feel like sleeping so he left the flat and drove down to the beach. He parked near the promenade. He drew a fleece tight up against his chin as he walked towards the old pier. The moonlight was a dim reflection off the surface of the flat, calm water and in the distance the blades of the wind farms were silent. It was quiet and Drake hoped that with the investigation coming to an end he could plan to do more with Helen and Megan. After half an hour he shivered before returning to the car. Back in the flat he fell soundly asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

  Chapter 30

  Drake spent the following morning reading reports that included the house-to-house enquires near Ed Mostyn’s cottage and misleading statements from well-intentioned members of the public until he couldn’t justify to himself that the evidence existed to arrest Somerset and Catherine de Northway. He spent an hour sitting in front of the board, looking at the smiling faces from the formal Cambrian Club dinner, and listening to Howick and Winder and Caren discussing how they all fitted together. Even the burglary at Jessop’s office wasn’t going to help: there were no forensics, a window had been broken and an entry forced. Money had been taken from a petty cash box as well as an antique corner clock but nothing else had been reported stolen. Drake stared at the face of Gwynfor Llywelyn – and where did he fit in?

  Drake was polishing the last paragraph of his memorandum to Price when the telephone rang. He was accustomed to interruptions but this one didn’t fray his nerves, as he’d reached the stage where Price would have to make the decision. He might even include Thorsen.

  ‘Area control. We have a report of a fatality. A Mr Fairburn was found dead this morning.’

  Drake was still half-reading the memorandum on the monitor on his desk.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, recognising a familiar name.

  ‘A Mr Fairburn has been killed.’

  Drake stood up; the chair behind him tipped up and finished up on the floor.