Detectives Merry & Neal Books 1-3

by JANICE FROST

  Ava was starving. She’d been up since six and had started the day with a five mile run before dropping her younger brother, Ollie, off at school. Since then she’d only had coffee and a handful of nuts and berries.

  “I’m okay,” she lied. “Mrs Cameron, what are your plans? Would you like me to book you a room for the night in a local hotel?”

  Laura stared at her. “Actually, I’d rather go home. Could you arrange for a taxi to take me back to the station?”

  “Already? Are you sure you feel like travelling after—?”

  “Seeing my dead husband? Home’s the only place I want to be. There’s nothing for me here. How soon can Ewan’s body be released? I need to arrange for it to be taken back to Edinburgh.”

  “I’m not sure,” Ava admitted honestly. She knew it was likely to be some time.

  “I have to get back to work tomorrow. I’m a primary school teacher. The children will be missing me. Will you, you know, let me know if there’s any news?”

  “Of course. Mrs Cameron, you are entitled to victim support. I could liaise with the force up there to arrange for something to be put in place for you in Edinburgh.”

  “No. I don’t want anything like that. I’m not that sort of person.”

  Not what sort of person? Ava wondered. The kind who knew when to accept help when it was offered? Perhaps Laura Cameron was afraid of appearing needy.

  “We may need to speak with you again soon.”

  “You can phone me, can’t you?”

  “I . . . yes, or someone could come up to Edinburgh.”

  “Isn’t Inspector Neal still there?”

  “He’s returning soon.”

  “There is one thing you could do for me,” Laura said. “Can you give Rhona Pine my contact details?”

  “Of course.”

  “Wait. I’m not sure . . . perhaps you shouldn’t. I’ll let you know.”

  Ava was almost relieved to witness Laura’s indecision. It proved that she was human after all. She glanced at her watch, wondering if she could enlist PJ as a taxi driver. She did not feel particularly thrilled at the prospect of driving Laura Cameron back to the station. Of course there were more questions she would like to ask but she had a feeling that despite her apparent equilibrium, Laura Cameron was hurting somewhere deep inside. Ava suspected that Laura was the kind of person who would wait until she was alone to grieve. She was beginning to believe, as Neal had, that it was not coldness but reserve that governed Laura’s behaviour. She possessed a kind of quiet fortitude, born perhaps out of disappointment, as Neal conjectured, or perhaps something else. Maybe it was a Scottish thing, she thought, indulging in some uncharacteristic national stereotyping.

  “My colleague, PC Jenkins, is free. I’ll ask her to drive you back to the station.”

  “Thank you,” Laura said quietly.

  Ava drove them to the police station and hauled PJ out of the staffroom, where she was tucking into a giant Subway roll.

  “I don’t think she’ll open up to you, but see if you can get her to talk about her husband and his student life in Stromford. I’ve got a feeling that she knows more than she’s letting on about the reason why he fell out with David Pine ten years ago,” Ava said. “Finish your lunch first,” she added.

  “There’s another of these in the fridge if you’re hungry,” PJ said. “I got it for Steve but he’s been called out. Possible domestic on the Foxgrove Estate.”

  “OMG, Peej. Never let me forget to tell you how much I love you,” Ava said, her stomach rumbling. Then, in an afterthought, “Actually, take it for Mrs Cameron. I don’t think she’s eaten a thing today. And get her a coffee before you put her on the train.”

  PJ swept crumbs from her uniform and crossed to the fridge. She waved the sandwich enticingly under Ava’s nose as she made for the door.

  “Merry!” Saunders called over.

  Ava had no idea he had been nearby. He had sent her to pick up Laura Cameron and take her to identify the body.

  “Get your coat. We’re going out to interview David and Rhona Pine. I got your text saying Laura Cameron made a positive ID.”

  He looked heavy and hungover, older than the last time she’d seen him. His clothes were creased, as though he’d spent the night in them, and he had a five o’clock shadow. If he was worrying about something, it was unlikely to be the case, Ava thought.

  Outside in the car park, Saunders tossed her his car keys. “You drive. Wake me when we get there.”

  Ava had looked up the Pines’ address as soon as Neal had told her about their connection with Ewan Cameron, so she had no need to ask where they were headed. Saunders belched loudly, souring the air. Then he settled back in the passenger seat and closed his eyes. Ava had never felt Neal’s absence so keenly.

  With Saunders asleep, there was no need for strained conversation during the forty minutes that it took to drive out to Stainholme village. More than once Ava had to slow almost to a standstill behind lumbering tractors or some other piece of hulking farm machinery. She was aware that theft of tractors and other heavy equipment by organised gangs was a growing problem out here in the sticks, but moving at twelve miles an hour on a narrow stretch of road where there was no possibility of overtaking made her feel like cheering them on.

  The village itself was served only by narrow, winding roads. It consisted of a single main street with a school, church, village hall, village store and post office. Its homes were scattered and bounded by swathes of fields. The Pines lived in a barn conversion on the outskirts of the village. It was set back from the lane, half-hidden by a curving hedgerow. Ava admired it from a distance, liking the way that the winter sunshine through the trees cast tiger-striped shadows across its orange roof tiles. She gave Saunders a dig in the ribs. He snorted awake and looked at her irritably.

  “You said to wake you when we got there,” Ava said.

  The door opened as they approached and a woman, who could only be Rhona Pine, stood before them with a sleepy baby cradled in her left arm and a half-empty bottle of formula milk in her right. Her eyes were ringed with dark circles, that trademark of all new parents. She had startlingly abundant red hair and her skin was pale and freckled. She wore jeans and a loose-fitting black jumper, with a soft pink muslin square draped over one shoulder.

  DS Saunders showed her his badge. “Good afternoon. Is it alright if we come in?”

  Rhona Pine nodded. Ava had phoned her to check that it was a convenient time to call.

  “I’m Sergeant Ava Merry. I spoke with you earlier,” she said.

  Another nod. “Shaun’s almost asleep. Do you mind if I put him down first?”

  She led them into a light, airy sitting room with a large brick fireplace and a wood-burning stove giving out a welcome heat. Wide French doors gave a view of the garden and paddock land beyond, where a couple of ponies were grazing. How the other half live, Ava thought.

  “Nice place,” Saunders remarked.

  “Bit minimalist, isn’t it?” Ava said looking around. There wasn’t much in the way of furniture, just a black leather sofa and two matching chairs, a huge plasma TV on the wall, a coffee table and a trio of wicker baskets arranged in a corner with a vase of flowers on top.

  “Could do with a bit of plastering,” Saunders said, referring to an exposed brickwork wall that Ava quite liked.

  “So what do we know about the Pines?” Saunders asked.

  “He’s some kind of design consultant. Pretty successful if this place is anything to go by. She’s a stay-at-home mum. They’re both in their early thirties, three kids. Neither of them has form.”

  As she was speaking, Rhona Pine returned. She gave a polite cough as she entered the room. “Would you like tea or coffee?” Her accent reminded Ava of Neal’s.

  They both said no. A man appeared in the doorway. He hovered behind Rhona, looking protective.

  “I’m David Pine.” His voice and stance were assertive without being aggressive. “I understand this is abou
t Ewan Cameron?”

  Ava glanced at Saunders. He seemed content for her to ask the questions.

  “Mr Cameron was a friend of yours, wasn’t he?”

  The Pines exchanged glances. They had probably rehearsed what to say, but not who was going to say it. David cleared his throat. “A long time ago. We were students together at the art college in Stromford, but Ewan went back to Edinburgh after he graduated. We lost touch, like you do.”

  “Did he contact you before coming to Stromford, or arrange to visit?” Ava went on. “Even if he was in Stromford on some business of his own, I’d expect him to look up his old friends.”

  David shook his head. “No. He didn’t contact us or come to visit us. We didn’t even know he was in Stromfordshire until you got in touch with us.”

  Rhona stared expressionlessly at the wooden floor. It seemed that she was content to let her husband speak for both of them.

  “Mrs Pine? Were you surprised that Ewan Cameron didn’t get in touch with you, since he was in town?” Rhona’s pale face seemed to turn a shade paler, her freckles stood out like polka dots against her bleached skin. Ava’s first thought was that she was afraid, but of what she had no idea.

  “I . . . No. Perhaps he was intending to before . . . before . . .”

  Before someone murdered him, thought Ava. To David Pine, she said, “Mr Pine, we are aware that you and Ewan Cameron fell out in your last term at college.” She waited a moment, giving David and Rhona time to digest this fact before asking her next, obvious question. “What did you fall out about, Mr Pine? We’ve spoken with Laura Cameron and she said her husband wouldn’t tell her. It must have been something big if he couldn’t even tell his wife about it.”

  Rhona Cameron suddenly looked animated. “You’ve seen Laura?”

  “She was in Stromford yesterday. As the next of kin we asked her to identify her husband’s body.”

  “Poor Laura,” Rhona said. David put his arm around her and drew her to him.

  Ava asked again.

  The Pines looked at each other, then David sighed. “If you must know, Sergeant, I discovered that Ewan had slept with Rhona.”

  “Right. Was this before or after you were married?”

  “Before,” Rhona whispered.

  Her husband’s arm stayed firmly in place around her shoulder. “It only happened once.”

  Ava nodded. She could appreciate that David Pine might have fallen out with his best friend over something like that.

  Rhona was beginning to look as though the only thing keeping her upright was her husband’s support. David had provided a plausible explanation for the rift in his relationship with Ewan Cameron, but Ava couldn’t help wondering if there was more to it.

  Predictably, when questioned about their whereabouts at the time of Cameron’s death, the Pines both claimed they were at home, Rhona asleep, David walking the floors with a colicky baby Shaun.

  There was not much else for it but to thank the Pines for their time. Ava and Saunders made their way back to the car. Ava felt dispirited. David Pine had answered her questions willingly enough, but Ava had been struck by Rhona’s silence, her nervous demeanour. It was hard to believe that the Pines were not connected in some way to Ewan Cameron’s death. Ava wished it was Jim Neal sitting next to her in the car. Then she would be voicing her thoughts, not keeping them to herself.

  “Penny for them, Blondie,” Saunders said, as if reading her mind.

  “Just considering . . . scenarios,” Ava replied.

  “Worked it out yet?” His voice was mocking.

  “There just don’t seem to be that many possibilities. Unless the Pines are involved somehow.”

  “Yeah, well, if you ask me, Cameron’s death had something to do with that raid on Ridgeway Farm. That’s the angle I’m going to pursue. You and Jimmy-lad can follow a different angle if you can find one.” Ava took her eye off the road to give him a questioning look.

  “That’s right, Scotty’s back. Got in touch with DCI Lowe last night and said he’d be in this morning. Missed him, have you?”

  Yes. Ava thought with a pang.

  “I take it you won’t miss old Reggie. Well, just for the record, the feeling’s mutual.”

  * * *

  The afternoon wore on. Time dragged while Ava reviewed her notes on Ewan Cameron’s murder, did some research and drank so many cups of coffee she began to feel jittery. She took a white envelope from her handbag and slipped it into her drawer. Inside was a ‘congratulations’ card for PJ, who was sitting her detective constable’s exam that afternoon. It was her second attempt and Ava had been coaching her for several weeks. If only her friend could conquer her nerves, she should do okay.

  She hadn’t really expected to find Neal sitting at his desk when she arrived back. Still, it was disappointing to see his room still empty every time she glanced across. He was probably in a briefing with DCI George Lowe. Ava put down her joy at Neal’s return to relief that she would no longer be working so closely with Saunders, but there was more to it than that. How much more and what kind of more, she wasn’t ready to acknowledge, so she pushed it to the back of her mind. Her relationship with Joel Agard was going well. He was a kind man, an attentive lover and she did have genuine feelings for him. It was just that she wasn’t sure how deeply those feelings went, and she was afraid that Joel might be falling in love with her. Ava had no wish to hurt him. With a sigh, she pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind and tried to concentrate on her work.

  Laura Cameron struck her as a strange character. Her apparent lack of emotion at the news of her husband’s death or when seeing his body seemed at odds with her assertion about the love that had existed between them. Had. Somewhere along the line, their relationship had faltered. David Pine’s claim that Ewan and Rhona had slept together hardly seemed enough reason for the break-up of their friendship. After all, David had forgiven Rhona and they had married soon afterwards. They had been expecting a child. Perhaps that had made the difference.

  Laura Cameron claimed not to know the reason why her husband had fallen out with his best friend. Rhona had been her best friend, so how could she not have known? Why hadn’t she insisted on Ewan telling her, since it meant that she couldn’t see Rhona? It was all a bit unconvincing.

  At three forty, Ava left her desk and went to the staffroom to make yet another coffee. As she waited for her cup to fill, she heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor outside. Ava felt a thrill of anticipation. When she turned around Jim Neal was standing in the doorway. “Jim!” Ava cried, before she could check herself. She was, after all, an impulsive sort of person.

  “Ava.” Jim Neal nodded. Then, incredibly, he smiled, pleased, it seemed at her apparent joy at seeing him. Ava held up a cup and Neal nodded again. “Earl Grey, please.”

  “Good to have you back, sir.”

  “Does that have anything to do with a certain Reg Saunders?”

  “Not at all. I just prefer working with more enlightened men.”

  “You found him a bit old school, then?”

  “Among other things,” Ava said with uncharacteristic tact. “How’s Maggie?”

  “She’s good. Actually, she’d like to see you. She wants to thank you.”

  “Thank me?” Ava was genuinely surprised.

  “It was down to you that we discovered the identity of the killer in time.” Ava was about to protest when Neal stopped her with a look. “I’ve been so wrapped up in myself since it happened that I haven’t thanked you either. I’m sorry about that. I am deeply grateful for your intervention.” He cleared his throat.

  Ava could see that this was awkward for him. She handed him his tea and they both sat down. “My way wouldn’t have worked,” Ava said softly. “My instinct was to rush in, all guns blazing. If I’d done that—”

  “Don’t,” Neal said. “There was no right way to play it. Let’s just be thankful the outcome wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Normally I’m in favour of reflecting,
but . . . not in this case, not anymore.”

  “Okay,” replied Ava, hesitantly. Relieved to move on, she asked, “Did DCI Lowe fill you in on the Cameron murder?”

  “Yes, and I’ve spoken with Saunders. What intrigues me is the coincidence of Cameron being murdered in this particular part of the world, and so close to the Pines’ home.” He paused. “Have we organised a door-to-door around Stainholme village to see if anyone saw or heard anything the night Cameron was killed?”

  “Yes, sir. There’s also an appeal for more information going out on the local news this evening.”

  “Where’s Ash at on the autopsy report?”

  “He estimated time of death at between ten thirty and three in the morning.”

  “Cause of death?”

  “Toxicology report hasn’t come back yet but Ash believes he was drugged, then smothered.”

  Neal nodded. “The killer could be female if the victim was incapacitated first.”

  “Ash said the same thing. We’re puzzled about Cameron’s body being found so far from his car. It’s a long way to drag a body, through the woods from Ridgeway to Stainholme. Why would you do that? We’ve considered the possibility that either Cameron or his killer were involved in the Ridgeway Farm robbery but that still doesn’t account for Cameron’s body turning up at the old abbey. Or the fact that Cameron’s ID was found so near the farm. If he witnessed the crime, why kill him, drag him through the woods, then drop his wallet and driving licence so near his car? Would have been easier to torch the car with him in it.”

  Neal agreed. “That suggests to me that the farm robbery was a wholly separate incident and the car being left so near the scene of that crime simply coincidental. The killer could have driven out to the woods after dumping Cameron at the abbey, but why? It’s tempting to believe it had something to do with the robbery, but I’m not convinced there’s a connection. The whole thing seems like a bit of a botched job to me. I suspect the killer ran into some bad luck along the way and had to abandon his or her original plan.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first one,” Ava said. Chance was the one thing that even criminal masterminds couldn’t factor into their plans.