by Alex Pine
It was all done in a hurry in order to beat the bad weather that was predicted to hit the area soon.
The search of the field was proving fruitless. The snow had filled in any footprints that might have been left by the killer, and if the murder weapon was lying nearby it was going to take a huge stroke of luck to find it. What’s more, there were only a few hours of daylight left and there would be no point carrying on after dark.
James looked out beyond the field to a landscape festooned with low drystone walls. Thick clouds circled the peaks in the distance and the wind was blowing them towards Kirkby Abbey.
‘We need to wrap up here soon, guv,’ Stevens said, his voice tight. ‘I’ve lived in these parts long enough to know that we’re in for a bastard of a blizzard. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but it’s on the way.’
James took a deep breath and held it for a moment before speaking.
‘How bad is it likely to get?’ he asked.
Stevens released a thin whistle from between his lips.
‘Put it this way,’ he said, in what James sensed was a patronising tone. ‘In London, a fierce snowstorm would almost certainly have zero impact on a murder investigation. The roads would stay open, there’d be no problem reaching suspects to interview them, and you’d have a plentiful supply of officers to call on for support. But here, everything can grind to a halt. Roads get blocked by snowdrifts, phone lines can be disabled and trying to get to remote villages such as this one can be a frigging nightmare.’
It felt to James as though his DS had just taken great pleasure in talking to him like he was a clueless outsider, which was how Stevens had viewed him since he’d arrived at Kendal HQ and got in the way of the guy’s promotion. James just hoped that he didn’t persist with the attitude since this was the first time they’d worked together on a major case.
But what he’d said had given James something to think about. Since he had moved to Cumbria the weather had been cold but stable. And he had never experienced severe storms during previous visits. But he’d heard how bad it could get and Annie had told him how the village had often been cut off when she was a child.
‘We’ll just have to keep a close eye on the weather, then, if the investigation drags on,’ he said. ‘If necessary, we can arrange for some officers to bed down at the B&Bs in the village.’
‘That’s not a bad idea,’ Stevens said. ‘I’ll call control and let them know it’s a possibility so they can prepare for it.’
‘Well, hopefully it won’t come to it. Meanwhile, let’s go back over the bridge and have a team talk. I want to know if the uniforms have come up with anything and we can work out where to go from there.’
The uniforms had been hard at work. As well as cracking on with door-to-door enquiries, they had also managed to gain access to the small village hall so that it could be used as a base.
It was just behind the square and a short walk from the crime scene. A group of pensioners who had been taking part in a social gathering there had been asked to leave and they’d been only too willing to oblige. Like everyone else in the village they were in a state of shock and struggling to come to terms with what had happened.
The inspector in charge was waiting in the hall with four other uniformed officers. His name was Dave Boyd, a portly northerner with a pencil moustache. He was clearly on top of things and was in constant touch with those members of his team who were searching the field and talking to people in the village.
‘We’ve managed to bring in twenty officers,’ he told the two detectives. ‘That’s more than I expected, given the pressure on resources.’
James briefed the officers on what he’d learned from Sonia Jenkins and the pathologist. He also mentioned the threatening message and the dead partridge, but stressed that at this stage there was no evidence to indicate a connection.
‘Obviously we’re hoping there won’t be,’ he said. ‘But that doesn’t mean it’s not a serious line of inquiry. I want you to pass the information onto the team, but impress on them that it’s not to be made public.’
The update from Inspector Boyd was not encouraging. So far nobody who’d been questioned had seen or heard anything during the night.
‘It seems that very few people ever venture out that late, so the streets are almost always empty,’ he said. ‘But some have spotted Charlie Jenkins walking his dog in the past around the square and across the footbridge into the field.’
‘So he’d established a routine that his killer was probably aware of,’ James said. ‘He or she would have known where the best place was to strike. And it wouldn’t surprise me if the pathologist is right and the perp was waiting behind the tree. The dog might well have led Charlie right into the trap.’
‘It’s also possible he’d arranged to meet someone in the field,’ Stevens said. ‘Maybe the woman he’d been seeing. They argued and things turned nasty.’
There were numerous scenarios to consider, but James was convinced that the initial focus should be on the wife.
‘We’ll go and have another chat with Sonia Jenkins,’ he said. ‘And this time, we’ll also sift through Charlie’s belongings and get a sample of Sonia’s handwriting to compare with the message in the Christmas cards.’
He told the inspector to call him immediately if his officers turned up anything interesting.
The detectives then walked out of the village hall to find a young man waiting for them.
Stevens reacted by reeling off a bunch of expletives under his breath.
Then he said, ‘I might have known that you’d be the first of the vultures to turn up.’
A tight smile twisted on the man’s lips.
‘And it’s good to see you too, DS Stevens.’ Turning to James, the man went on: ‘And you must be Detective Inspector Walker. I understand you’re in charge.’
‘I am,’ James said. ‘Who are you?’
‘The name’s Gordon Carver. I’m a reporter with the Cumbria Gazette, based in Kendal, but I live here in Kirkby Abbey. I also freelance for the nationals and they’re all eager for information on the murder.’
Carver looked to be in his late twenties. He was of medium height with sharp features and reddish hair cropped close to his scalp. He was wearing a knee-length overcoat and clutching a notebook and pen.
‘You need to contact the press office,’ James said. ‘I’m sure they’re about to release a statement.’
‘All they’re saying is that you’re investigating a suspicious death,’ Carver said. ‘I already know much more than that.’
‘Exactly what do you know?’ Stevens asked him.
Carver read from his notes. ‘The victim is pub landlord Charlie Jenkins, who I knew reasonably well. He was found dead with stab wounds in the field on the other side of the stream. It’s believed it happened during the night while he was walking his dog, Daisy, who was also found dead.’
‘Where did you get that information?’ James said, without trying to conceal his irritation.
‘It’s all over the village already,’ Carver said. ‘This is the sort of place where news spreads quickly, Detective Inspector. I just need you to confirm it all and tell me if you’ve got any idea who did it.’
‘Look, Mr Carver, you really need to bear with us on this,’ James said. ‘The body was discovered less than three hours ago, and I’m surprised you know as much as you do. We’re still trying to pull the facts together ourselves and it’s taking time. But you can quote me as saying that an investigation has indeed been launched and we’d like to hear from anyone who might have information pertaining to what I’d describe as a brutal crime.’
Carver started making notes as James continued.
‘I would ask you not to approach Mrs Jenkins at this time for obvious reasons,’ he said. ‘The news came as a terrible shock to her and she’s naturally very distressed. And for the record we have no suspects at this early stage.’
‘Can you tell me how many times Mr Jenkins was stabbed?’ Carver aske
d.
James shook his head. ‘We’ll release that information after the pathologist has carried out a detailed examination of the body. But for now I’d like you to leave it at that. I’ve said more than I would normally say because I suspect that during this case we can be helpful to one another. You live in the village so I’m sure you’ll be picking up information that will be useful to us. If you’re happy to share it before writing it up, then you’ll be given preferential treatment when it comes to releasing updates to the media.’
‘That sounds fair to me,’ Carver said, without hesitation. ‘Can I suggest we exchange cards and shake on it?’
After that was done, they set off in different directions.
‘I’m not sure that was sensible, guv,’ Stevens said as he and James headed towards The White Hart. ‘He’s one of the least popular journos on the patch, and he’s written more negative stories about the force than anyone else.’
‘Don’t worry,’ James said. ‘I’ve had a ton of experience dealing with the press in London. I know what I’m doing.’
‘With respect, guv, this isn’t London. Up here we tend not to trust hacks.’
James chose not to give Stevens the satisfaction of responding to the remark. That would be a sure way of creating further tension between them and they could do without that this early in the investigation.
But if the DS continued with his petulant gibes, he would put him in his place and send him back to Kendal with a flea in his ear.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Annie’s heart was beating high up in her chest as she drove towards where Bill was waiting. At the same time the blood pulsed and hammered inside her head.
She still wasn’t sure what to make of his alarming SOS call. He’d refused to provide her with details over the phone other than to say that he was stranded about two miles outside the village.
‘Just get here as quickly as you can,’ he’d said.
It had taken her three goes to get her own car started because she hadn’t used it in over a week. She’d thought about calling James, but decided it wouldn’t be fair as he already had enough on his plate with Charlie’s murder.
The roads were slippery and there were lots of icy patches which forced her to take it slowly.
The location Bill had given her was just off the A683, between Kirkby Abbey and Sedbergh. She had no idea what he was doing there or what kind of mess he had got himself into. And, because of that, she wasn’t able to rein in her imagination.
Why had he been acting so strangely? she kept asking herself. And was it merely a coincidence that soon after he arrived the parcel with the partridge inside was left on their doorstep? Plus, he claimed he’d delivered Christmas cards to ‘old acquaintances’ in the village. Did that include Father Silver?
And then the weird behaviour continued when he failed to turn up for dinner, saying that he didn’t remember Annie inviting him. Surely that was either a daft excuse or an outright lie. But why had he felt the need to do that? It made no sense.
At any other time, Annie would have shrugged it off and put it down to his age. But because of what was happening her mind was all over the place. She couldn’t help wondering if her uncle had done something stupid or bad and was now seriously regretting it.
Traffic was light on the A683 as it meandered through an artwork of a landscape. Snow-covered hills reached towards a sky that was filled with low, bloated clouds.
Suddenly she found herself approaching the old stone bridge that crosses the River Rawthey. Just beyond this was a layby, and that was where Bill said he’d be waiting. Only, when Annie reached it, she couldn’t see him.
She pulled onto the layby and stopped the car. At this point the narrow river that hugged the road was out of sight at the bottom of an overgrown embankment.
Annie got out of the car and looked around, but Bill was nowhere to be seen so she called his name.
‘I’m down here,’ he shouted back.
She walked to the edge of the layby and looked down towards the frozen river. And there was her uncle, sitting on a rock a few yards to the right of his bright red Ford Escort. The vehicle was resting precariously on the embankment and would have slid down into the water if the front hadn’t been crushed up against a tree. It was immediately obvious to Annie what had happened. Bill had for some reason careered off the road and plunged down the embankment. But it looked as though the damage was restricted to the front bumper and bonnet.
Annie stumbled down the steep incline towards him and was immensely relieved when he stood and turned towards her. He looked to be in one piece, thankfully.
‘My God, are you all right?’ she said as she reached him.
He nodded. ‘I’m fine. Just a bit shaken. And ruddy freezing.’
‘So you’re not hurt?’
‘I was lucky,’ he said. ‘The tree saved me.’
His face was ghostly pale and he was trembling beneath his heavy coat.
‘Maybe I should take you straight to a hospital,’ Annie said. ‘Just to be sure.’
‘There’s no need for that, my dear. Just get me back to the village so I can arrange for the garage to come and drag the old girl out of here. And then I’ll have a stiff drink or two.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘But what the hell happened?’
He shrugged. ‘As I said on the phone, I did something stupid. When I realised I was going too fast I braked hard and lost control on the icy road. Ended up going over the edge and hitting the tree.’
‘I suppose it could have been much worse.’
‘I know that, Annie,’ he said. ‘It’s my own fault for coming here. I should have passed up on your invitation to spend Christmas in Kirkby Abbey. I made a stupid mistake that has almost cost me my life.’
Annie felt her stomach pitch. ‘You’re doing it again, Bill. You’re not making any sense. What is wrong with you? You’ve been acting odd since you arrived. I just don’t get it and, if I’m honest, it’s quite upsetting.’
Bill heaved a sigh and reached out to take her hand.
‘You really don’t need to worry, Annie,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m just getting old.’
Annie wasn’t convinced. Instinct told her that he was not being entirely honest, but she had no idea why.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Back at The White Hart James was having another conversation with Sonia Jenkins. While he’d been gone, she’d changed out of her dressing gown and into jeans and a jumper.
She was still an emotional wreck, though, and struggling to hold it together. He noted that she had also been drinking. A bottle of vodka and a half-filled glass was on the table in front of her.
Beth and Josh had stayed to help console her, and Father Silver was still there. All three were talking amongst themselves on the other side of the bar area while DS Stevens and a couple of uniforms were searching the upstairs flat and going through Charlie’s belongings.
James was sitting facing Sonia at a table in the restaurant as he gently asked her questions about her husband’s movements in the hours before he went out with the dog.
‘After the argument at lunchtime, which you saw, we hardly spoke to each other,’ she said. ‘But there was no need to, anyway, because we were really busy. Charlie spent most of the time in the kitchen and serving at the tables while I stayed behind the bar. Being market day, we remained open and we were at it non-stop. After closing up, I went straight to bed and he took Daisy for her walk.’
But there was no one to confirm that she did go to bed and stay there until the morning. He was being asked to take her word for it. She did sound convincing, though, and he found it hard not to believe that she was telling the truth.
So far, she had cooperated fully. She’d provided them with the password to the laptop the couple had shared and had given her permission for the place to be searched.
‘Have you spoken to Janet yet?’ she asked him. �
�Like I told you earlier, she was furious with Charlie for going to her house yesterday morning.’
‘I intend to talk to her shortly, Mrs Jenkins. But can you tell me exactly what she said to you? When I heard you and Charlie arguing in the alley, he claimed he went there to tell her not to set foot in this place again.’
She nodded. ‘That’s right. But she said he also tore her off a strip for letting on to Ron Curtis that they’d been having an affair. She said Charlie threatened her and said he’d make sure she’d regret it if she ever talked about him again to anyone.’
‘And what did you say to her?’
‘Nothing at all. Before I could respond she slammed the phone down on me. And that was when I went outside and confronted Charlie in the alley. And for your information, I didn’t really mean it when I told him I wished he was dead. I was just so wound up.’
‘So you believed what Janet told you?’
She nodded. ‘Of course. The woman had no reason to lie. What Charlie did was stupid. And wrong. It really got to me because he’d promised he’d never do it again.’
She closed her eyes and dragged in a long breath. James left it a moment and then told her that officers had, in the last few minutes, broken the news to Charlie’s mother in York and brother in Sheffield. They’d also contacted Sonia’s parents in Leeds.
She opened her eyes and choked back more tears.
‘I’ve tried calling my daughter in Dubai,’ she said. ‘But I can’t get through so I expect her phone is switched off. She’s going to be devastated. They were very close.’
‘We’ll keep trying to get in touch. Meanwhile, is there anything you need?’
‘Only to be left alone for a while,’ she sobbed. ‘I appreciate that Beth, Josh and the priest are trying to be helpful, but I’d rather just go and lie on my bed.’
‘I quite understand,’ James said. ‘I’ll see if they’re finished upstairs. And just so you know, a family liaison officer is on her way. She’ll make sure you’re not pestered by anyone during the night, and will be the point of contact between you and us, keeping you informed of how the investigation is progressing.’
