Detectives Merry & Neal Books 1-3

by JANICE FROST

  “I’ll have to contact my school and arrange a couple of days off work.”

  “Of course. I’ll leave you to make the necessary arrangements.”

  It seemed peculiar not to be offering comfort to Laura Cameron. The normal conventions did not seem to apply, so Neal beat his retreat. Laura Cameron saw him out. He was certain she was watching him as he descended the four flights of stairs. As he exited, he heard her door bang shut. It sounded decisive.

  Chapter 6

  “Zak! Wake up!” Olivia Darby shook her son awake. Zak looked around the room, his eyes wide and fearful like a frightened animal.

  “Time to get up, sweetheart. She looked at her son’s peaky face and asked him if he was feeling alright. He said that he was, but she wasn’t convinced. “Are you worrying about something? Is everything alright at school? You’d tell me, wouldn’t you, if something was bothering you? It’s not that murder, is it?”

  Her son repeated that he was ‘OK.’

  Still anxious, she left him to get ready for school.

  At breakfast, he seemed exhausted. He sat hunched over his bowl of porridge, looking like all the cares of the world were on his shoulders. Olivia knew better than to ‘go on.’

  At twenty to nine, Rowan Pine appeared in front of the house and waited by the garden gate. She did this every morning, unless it was wet, and then she’d come inside. Rowan was always the one waiting, Zak the one running around collecting his lunch and his PE kit at the last minute. This morning, though, Zak was out the door as soon as Rowan arrived. Was it Olivia’s imagination or did Rowan look a little strained also? She was a pale child at the best of times, but this morning she looked like she was coming down with something. Olivia wondered whether she should call Rhona Pine and ask if there were any bugs doing the rounds. She hoped they weren’t sickening for something. As she waved them off she told herself to stop worrying and get down to some work.

  Olivia worked from home. Through a mixture of talent, hard work and determination, she’d managed to build up a small business. She was doing well, designing textiles, making cushions and other items. The inspiration for her designs came from nature and her friend Faye Wellings had been of invaluable help in introducing her to the flora and fauna of the Stromfordshire countryside. It gave Olivia a buzz to see her work for sale in the gift and craft shop on the Long Hill in Stromford, and know she could make her own way in the world. Of course it wasn’t all arty work. Doing alterations and making up curtains were her bread and butter and they kept her busy. She enjoyed laying out the pretty material her clients brought to her on her huge kitchen table and turning them into something that would enhance their homes.

  Olivia worked steadily for almost three hours. At noon, Belle started to become restless. “OK, Belle. Go get your lead and we’ll take a walk in the woods.” Belle padded off excitedly while Olivia tidied away her sewing things.

  They took a shortcut across a frozen field. Brittle ice had formed over the furrows, and here and there Belle stopped to poke her nose through and lap at the cold water underneath.

  Olivia’s friend, Faye Wellings, was busy mending some bird boxes when Olivia tracked her down. “Good timing. I was just about to go back into the shack for lunch.” The ‘shack’ was the big timbered hut where the rangers were based. It was warm inside, and they peeled off layers of clothing. Faye put the kettle on.

  “I spoke with some of the police officers investigating the murder,” Faye said, as she poured boiling water into a teapot and put a couple of mugs on the table. “Ham Bell said the whole place was swarming with cops. Couple of detectives from Stromford, forensics people, the lot.”

  Olivia raised her eyebrows. “There’s no doubt it was murder, then?”

  Faye shrugged. “Looks that way. Ham certainly seems to think so. Murder investigations are a bit out of his remit, though. He’s more used to dealing with hare coursing and thefts of farm machinery. That’s why they’ve called the big boys in — one of them is Ham’s uncle, DI Reg Saunders.”

  “Poor man. How sad to end up in such a bleak spot. Let me know if you hear anything, won’t you? I don’t like the idea of a murderer on the loose with Zak and me alone in that cottage.

  “Your cottage is a little isolated. Your nearest neighbours are the Pines, aren’t they? I’ve heard they’re a bit unfriendly.”

  “She’s okay, a bit reserved. I don’t really know him. They keep themselves to themselves. Zak’s friendly with their eldest, Rowan — she’s a nice kid. Anyway, look who’s talking about being isolated. You live in the middle of nowhere too. What would you do if the mad axeman came calling?”

  “I’d probably set him to work on some coppicing. Ham and Rosie’s caravan is practically in my back garden, but you’re all alone, Liv.”

  Olivia shrugged. “How’s the build coming along?”

  “It’s coming along OK. They’d both like to spend more time on it but Ham’s always so busy at work.”

  “It must be freezing in that caravan at this time of year.”

  “Rosie says it’s surprisingly cosy. Especially with Ham to snuggle up to.”

  Rosie and Ham had been living in the caravan for the best part of a year while they built their dream house. Their ambition was to ‘live off the grid.’ Like a lot of the locals, Olivia thought they were both slightly bonkers. “Looks more like an archaeological dig than a new building.”

  Belle looked up suddenly, cocking an ear. Faye and Olivia exchanged uneasy glances.

  “It’s only Bran,” Faye said, as the door opened and a man walked in dressed in faded jeans and a crumpled Fair Isle sweater. “All this talk about murder is making us jumpy. Anyway, time I got back to work.” Faye waved at Bran. He waved back, but he was looking at Olivia.

  “Hi, Bran,” she said.

  Bran nodded, suddenly awkward.

  “I finished the last of the coppice work on the other side of the pond,” he said to Faye. “I’ll need your help with the fencing down by Lark’s meadow this afternoon.”

  “Okay, boss,” Faye answered. Bran and Faye were employed full-time, and there were a couple of others who worked part-time or came over from one of the other sites if they were needed. Bran was Irish by birth and had a captivating Irish accent. He had moved to Stromfordshire when he was twenty. He was fair-skinned and freckled, with ginger hair and an untrimmed ginger beard that gave him the look of a wild man.

  Cold as it was outside, there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead from his recent labours. Olivia smelt his musky aroma of sweat and sawdust and the great outdoors. She remembered the previous month, when he had led her through a reel at a ceilidh in the village hall. After a few glasses of beer he’d at last plucked up the courage to ask her to dance with him. If only he’d known that she’d been holding her breath all night, waiting for him to do just that. They’d been seeing each other ever since, but hadn’t told anyone, especially Zak. Bran sometimes stayed over at her cottage, arriving late in the evening after Zak was asleep and leaving in the early hours of the morning to avoid being seen by her son. Fortunately Zak was a sound sleeper and nothing short of an earthquake would cause him to stir once he’d dropped off. Olivia felt a little guilty at not telling Faye that she and Zak weren’t always alone. In fact, Bran had been with her on the night of the murder. He had slipped away even earlier than usual to go for a run in the woods before work.

  “I’d better be off,” Olivia said, waving the leash at Belle, who was standing on her back legs, looking like she too had been waiting to dance with Bran.

  “How’s Zak?” he asked.

  Safe subject, Olivia thought. “He’s great. See you later, Bran.”

  Outside, Faye shook her head. “Honestly, I don’t know who’s more pathetic, you or him. You two are made for each other. Everyone can see it except you.”

  “Everyone?” Olivia was alarmed. She hated the thought of being the subject of village gossip.

  “Well, you know what I mean — me and Ham and Rosie
and . . .”

  “Oh, right, everyone.”

  “He’d make a great dad for Zak,” Faye said.

  Olivia scowled. Her friend had overstepped the mark. “Zak’s got me. He doesn’t need anyone else.”

  “Well, if there is a psycho on the loose, I know I’d feel safer with a man like Bran under my roof. That’s all I’m saying.”

  It was all Olivia allowed her to say. Mad at Faye for suggesting that she couldn’t take care of Zak on her own when she had been doing just that since the day he was born, Olivia muttered, “See you later,” and struck off across the field. Belle scurried behind her.

  Chapter 7

  A glowering grey sky hung over the railway station. Grey sleet, driven diagonally by a spiteful north wind, spat icy droplets onto platform four, where Ava was waiting for the ten thirty-five from Edinburgh. The train, inevitably, was running late. Fifteen minutes and counting. Sending the weather ahead of it, Ava was tempted to think, except that for weeks it had been freezing here too. She had driven to Pippinham from Stromford, there being no direct connection there with the route from the north. It was quicker to drive than change trains and she wanted the business of identifying the body over with as soon as possible.

  At last the train lumbered into view and Ava waited as it slowed and came to a jolting halt on the platform. Laura Cameron was among the first to alight. She was wearing a navy down-filled parka with a fur-fringed hood and was holding a small, tartan suitcase, which she put on the ground as soon as she stepped down. She pulled up the handle, then stood, looking around her before her gaze fell on Ava quietly appraising her from behind the barrier.

  “Laura Cameron?” Ava called. She had thought of bringing a sheet of paper with Laura’s name on it to hold up, but it wasn’t necessary. The station wasn’t busy.

  As she watched Laura making her way towards the barriers, Ava thought of her conversation with Neal the day before.

  “She took the news of her husband’s death very calmly,” he’d said. “No tears, no histrionics. Yet I didn’t get the impression she was a cold person. Just sort of resigned and accepting. Like she was used to disappointments.” Ava fancied she could detect pity in his voice and wondered if Neal had been attracted to Laura Cameron. She thought that he had a penchant for vulnerable women. But as Laura approached, she seemed not vulnerable but, as Neal had said, strangely composed and self-contained.

  She wheeled her suitcase through the barrier. “Sergeant Merry?”

  “Yes.” In the circumstances it seemed inappropriate to say she was pleased to meet her. “My car’s parked in the car park. It’s just outside the entrance.”

  “Is there somewhere I could grab a coffee first?” Laura asked. “There was no buffet car on the train because of a staff shortage and I’m gasping.”

  “Sure,” Ava replied. “There’s a little café just by the ticket office, where you can get a decent Americano.” She knew because she’d just had one.

  In the car, Laura sipped her coffee, looking out the window though there was nothing to see, only the high wall around the car park and the rain slashing against it. Laura seemed content to sit in silence, but Ava was biting back the questions on her lips.

  “I suppose to bring me all this way, you must be pretty sure it’s my husband’s body you’ve found,” Laura Cameron said, breaking the silence. “Strange, Ewan dying here, so far from home.”

  Not so strange, Ava thought. Neal had told her on the phone about Ewan Cameron’s connection with Stromford. Only ten years ago, he’d spent the best part of three years at the art college there. Something had brought him back. Or someone.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs Cameron. We are pretty sure the man we found is your husband.”

  Laura Cameron nodded.

  “Inspector Neal said your husband went to college in Stromford?”

  The look Laura Cameron gave her was hard to read, but it seemed to Ava that she was surprised Neal had spoken to her about his visit. As though passing on this information to a stranger represented a betrayal of her confidence.

  “I’ve no idea why Ewan would come back here. He couldn’t get away quickly enough after he graduated.”

  “Oh?” said Ava, “Why was that? Was he unhappy here?”

  “My husband was the sort of person who wasn’t particularly happy anywhere, Sergeant Merry. He was of a melancholy disposition.”

  It was a quaint, old-fashioned way of suggesting that Ewan Cameron might have been prone to depression. Ava waited, sensing Laura had more to say.

  “He wasn’t always like that, he’d been happy once.”

  She didn’t say it but Ava had the distinct impression that Laura meant her husband’s happiness preceded his marriage, or perhaps even his years at college.

  Laura’s hands were clasped around the empty coffee cup sitting on her lap. Not exactly a glass half-full sort of character, Ava thought. Then she reminded herself of the purpose of Laura Cameron’s visit and felt ashamed.

  “Are you ready?” she asked the woman, gently. Ava started up the car and drove out of the station almost directly into open countryside, wondering how a village in the middle of nowhere had a direct line to Edinburgh and London when Stromford did not. Some people liked the fact that the town was off all the main routes. You really had to want to visit Stromford if you made it here. It was fortunate that the cathedral was a major attraction or the town might have died over the centuries.

  “Did you come to visit your husband much when he was at college in Stromford, Mrs Cameron?”

  Laura Cameron’s reply surprised her. “Never.”

  “You were at school together, though, weren’t you?”

  Again, Laura gave Ava that hard-to-measure look. “DI Neal has obviously filled you in thoroughly.”

  “He didn’t mention when you got married.”

  “We were childhood sweethearts, yes, but when we went to university we had an . . . arrangement. We both saw other people. We decided that if we still wanted each other afterwards, then we’d know we were meant to be together.”

  “So you had a kind of open relationship?” Ava asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And did you see other people?”

  She sighed. “I had a couple of relationships, just to amuse myself really. I was never in any doubt that Ewan was the one for me.”

  “This arrangement, whose idea was it? Was it your husband’s?”

  “I know what you’re thinking, Sergeant Merry, that Ewan wanted to have his cake and eat it. But it wasn’t like that. I had my freedom too.”

  Except you didn’t want it. Ava and a boy she dated at school had made a similar arrangement. In her experience, few relationships survived the excitement of leaving your home town, going to university and meeting all kinds of new people.

  “Did your husband date anyone seriously, that you’re aware of?”

  “No.” Laura Cameron’s reply was definitive.

  “Inspector Neal told me about your friendship with David and Rhona Pine and Mr Cameron’s falling out with David Pine. The Pines live in a village in the Stromfordshire countryside. Do you think your husband might have come here to see them?”

  “How would I know? But I can’t think of any other reason. Like I told Inspector Neal, I don’t have a clue what Ewan and David fell out over. Ewan wouldn’t talk about it.”

  So Laura and Ewan’s marriage had been founded on a secret. Not a great recipe for a successful marriage. Ava would have insisted on knowing. They drove in silence for a bit and then Laura asked, “I suppose you’ll be speaking with Rhona and David, won’t you?”

  “Yes. If Mr Cameron visited them during his time in Stromford, or if visiting them was the purpose of his trip here, they might be able to help with our investigation.”

  “Assisting the police with their enquiries. Isn’t that just what you lot say when you suspect someone has something to do with the crime you’re investigating?”

  “No. That’s a popular misconception.”
It was what Ava herself used to think before she became a police officer, and there was a grain of truth in the assumption. “Do you have any reason to believe Mr and Mrs Pine would want to harm your husband?”

  “I haven’t seen them for ten years. As far as I know Ewan hadn’t either. Ten years is a long time to wait if you have a reason for wanting to kill someone, don’t you think?”

  No, Ava thought. Not in her experience. The past often bubbled up, even years later.

  “You don’t agree, Sergeant Merry?”

  “Maybe. Some people have long memories — or are short on forgiveness. I wasn’t suggesting that Mr and Mrs Pine are suspects, but they are a link to Mr Cameron and I think that warrants investigating.” As should you, Ava thought.

  When the car turned into the road leading to the hospital, Laura Cameron sniffed and Ava looked at her, wondering if at last she would show some sign of nerves. But as far as she could tell, the woman next to her was still in control of her emotions. Maybe she thinks there’s still a possibility that it might not be him, Ava thought, pityingly. Everyone had a breaking point. She wondered if Laura Cameron would reach hers when faced with her husband’s dead body, when hope was finally extinguished.

  Ava was wrong. In the mortuary, the assistant pulled back the sheet covering Ewan Cameron’s body, just enough to reveal his head and shoulders. “That’s him,” Laura said calmly.

  “Take your time, Mrs Cameron. Are you sure?”

  “I don’t need any more time. That’s my husband. That’s Ewan.” She turned away before the assistant replaced the sheet.

  Ava tried to believe Neal’s assertion that Laura Cameron was not a cold person. She took Laura’s arm and guided her into the corridor. “Can I get you anything?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You must be hungry after your journey.”

  “No. Seeing my dead husband has dampened my appetite, but please go ahead and get something to eat if you’re hungry, Sergeant Merry. Perhaps I’ll buy a sandwich to eat on the train.”