Cherringham--Cliffhanger

by Matthew Costello

  “You mean any motive for someone wanting to… do that woman harm?” said Heidi. “Nothing I saw. Steph?”

  “Oh no, me neither,” said Stephanie. “The only thing I really noticed was how much time Mr Klein and Mrs Arnold spent together on the walk. If you know what I mean. His wife, lagging behind. Odd, you know?”

  “Ah, yes,” said Sarah, making a note to bring that up with Jack, though it was hard to see what relevance it had here.

  In fact, although she didn’t doubt Stephanie’s belief about what she’d seen, there was a real lack of evidence for the existence of the mystery person on the crag.

  “One final thing,” she said, putting away her notebook. “I don’t suppose you noticed anyone else walking on the ridge, before or after? Or even on the trail up there?”

  She watched both women consider this. Then Heidi spoke.

  “You know — if you’re asking about before — there was somebody else, I think. In the woods when we started out. I remember that now. A car pulled up as we headed off. Then, twenty minutes or so later, I think I saw a walker in the woods that runs by the fields up to — what’s it called? — Knap Barrow.”

  “Hmm. Interesting,” said Sarah. “How about you, Stephanie. Did you see anyone that morning?”

  “I didn’t. But, you know, I took such a lot of pictures that day — usually a few quick bursts, trying to catch birds. I mean, I even had Susan in some shots on that cliff edge.”

  Sarah stopped.

  What did she just hear?

  The camera! Sarah had totally forgotten that Stephanie was a photo buff.

  “And when that person appeared? I mean, those shots I took. Must have been a burst of three, four of them, in just seconds. I could have caught something. I know, I got the crag, with Susan on it. I mean, just before she fell. So, well — it’s not impossible that I caught something on camera.” She took a breath. “Someone.”

  “The person who appeared to push Susan?”

  “Not sure. But possibly.”

  “Really?” said Sarah. “God, that’s terrific. Have you got your camera now? We could look—”

  Heidi laughed, took a sip of her tall drink.

  “We could,” said Heidi. “But Stephanie here shoots film — not digital.”

  “Oh,” said Sarah.

  “Old-school, hmm?” said Joan, turning from the stove.

  “How exciting!” said Jen clapping her hands in glee. “I love it!”

  Her sister Joan took a step closer. “And if it’s an old-school method, Sarah — real film and all — you’re actually perfectly placed to do something here!”

  “Really?” said Sarah, not sure where this was going. “How?”

  “Ha! The clue lies in the name — old school,” said Jen. “I bet they still have a dark room up at Cherringham High.”

  “Which means your Daniel will be able to get you in!”

  And with that came the amazing realisation: the Bucklands were right.

  Stephanie’s film could be developed.

  Enlarged.

  “You’re right,” said Sarah. “Great — I can ask him tonight.”

  “The film rolls from that day are in my room,” said Stephanie, getting up and heading out of the kitchen. “Two of them.”

  “Could be your break,” said Heidi.

  “Could be,” said Sarah, putting away her notebook and getting up.

  When Stephanie returned she had the rolls of 35 mm film.

  “Wow,” said Sarah. “I haven’t seen these in a long time.”

  “I don’t know how much use they’ll be,” said Stephanie. “But they cover most of that morning. Including Susan on the crag. As I said, a lot of quick shots in sequence. Fast! I’m always surprised when I see what I’ve captured.”

  “Fingers crossed,” said Sarah. “And thank you both for helping. And you two, Joan and Jen.”

  “Always welcome,” said Jen. “Don’t forget — we’re here should you need us!”

  “I’ll see you out,” said Heidi, following Sarah down the hall.

  “No need,” said Sarah at the front door.

  But Heidi insisted and followed her outside, into the front garden. Sarah suspected she had something private to say.

  She wasn’t wrong.

  “Wanted to mention. Just in case. Back home, I used to work in Federal Law Enforcement,” said Heidi, her voice low. “Learned a few things about people — if you know what I mean.”

  “Go on,” said Sarah, not at all sure what Heidi did mean.

  “The woman — Susan Braithwaite — did she tell you what she does? Job, I mean?”

  Sarah shrugged: “Some kind of financial analyst, I think. I haven’t checked into her yet.”

  “Well, I recommend you do — if you want to get to the bottom of this case.”

  “What do you mean?” said Sarah.

  “Susan Braithwaite is, well, we used to call them ’spooks’. She does something secret. I’d bet my last dollar on it.”

  “Spook — you mean — a spy?” said Sarah, not quite believing what she was hearing.

  “Yes. Well, an agent of some kind. Works intelligence, somehow, I imagine. See, I watched her on our first day. Old habits, you know. The way she spoke, moved, operated. How she found out everything she wanted about each and every one of us, and — at the same time — revealed nothing about herself. Had eyes on everything. Didn’t miss a thing. Apart from the person who pushed her, of course.”

  “Right,” said Sarah, thinking fast. Things suddenly making sense. “I’ll see what I can find out about her. But your take on her — based on your background — could be important.”

  Then: “What about the rest of the group — any thoughts on them?”

  She watched Heidi shrug: “Nothing beyond the obvious. Stuff going on between one husband and the other guy’s wife, I imagine. This definitely is Danny’s ’junket’. The others — none too happy.”

  Sarah nodded. Interesting…

  She opened the little metal gate: “Well, Heidi, thanks for your thoughts — and the information.”

  “You’re welcome. I don’t like the idea of someone throwing a woman off rocks,” said Heidi, turning to go back to the cottage. A grin then. “Even if they are spies.”

  “Me neither,” said Sarah, watching her go.

  But also thinking — maybe it takes a spy to know one.

  And perhaps she’d been a little too trusting of Heidi — and her so-convenient alibi, the German tourist.

  9. Walking the Dogs

  “How’s the knee holding up, Jack?” said Sarah, as they both climbed the stile set in the dry-stone wall.

  “As well as can be expected,” he said, watching her head off up the steep trail that led to Clevedon Ridge. “Makes a funny clicking sound, but seems to work okay.”

  Jack was still recovering from the effects of totalling his car a while back, while amazingly stopping a suspect from getting away. And though he was happy going uphill he suspected it would be the walk down that would cause problems today.

  He watched Riley chase after Sarah’s dog, Digby, the two Spaniels running crazy rings around each other in the sloping grassy meadow.

  “You sure you can keep that pace up?” he called, watching Sarah march ahead.

  “Yep!” she said over her shoulder. “I’ll give you a lift to the gym any day you want.”

  He laughed. “No way. You see me joining a gym?”

  Sarah paused at that, and turned as he caught up.

  “Ha, I think you’re not much of a joiner of anything, Jack.”

  “True fact,” he said, smiling.

  Still — he had to admit — if he was ever going to run again he needed to do some serious rehabilitation work after that injury.

  And boy did he miss his brisk morning runs along the river bank.

  “Come on,” said Sarah. “If your knee’s up to it, race you to the top.”

  “You are a cruel woman, Sarah Edwards,” he said watching
her pick up a jog and head towards the top of the hill.

  *

  Sarah stood on top of Clevedon Crag, looking out at the distant Welsh hills.

  Big cumulus clouds scudded across the blue early morning sky — but the far horizon was crystal clear, and she could see pretty much the whole of the Cotswolds laid out.

  A picture postcard view, to be sure.

  How could you not love this part of the world?

  She turned to Jack, who stood next to her on the rocky outcrop.

  “I’m guessing this was pretty much where Susan Braithwaite was standing, according to all the statements,” she said.

  “Yeah. And hard to imagine anyone creeping up on her,” said Jack. “Especially if Heidi’s right about her being a spy or agent of some kind.”

  “Well — it was rainy that day. Windy. Maybe hard to hear someone approaching. As to exactly what Susan Braithwaite is, I hope we’ll find out today, when I hit the office and get online. Though, if she is really with the government, that might be impossible.”

  “Right — then be prepared to find nothing.”

  “Yep,” said Sarah. She turned to look along the ridge. “So, okay, Heidi and Stephanie were all the way down there,” she said, pointing.

  “If we believe them,” said Jack. “Been thinking more about what you said on the drive up here this morning. Two agents of some kind on the same walking tour? What are the chances of that?”

  “Could be a coincidence?”

  “You know my thoughts on coincidences,” said Jack.

  “Oh, I do,” said Sarah. “Heidi could, of course, be playing a very clever game.”

  “Throwing us off the scent, hmm?”

  “She made sure that our conversation outside wasn’t overheard by the Bucklands or by Stephanie,” said Sarah. Then: “What about the others — where were they?”

  “Will and Steve Arnold were sitting, um, right about there I think,” said Jack, peering over the edge. Sarah looked too, and could just see a flat piece of grass thirty or so feet below, scuffed with footprints. A ragged, wind-worn tree jutted out from the rock just in front of it.

  “Wow. Long way to fall,” said Sarah.

  “Could have been fatal,” said Jack.

  “Right. Lucky the tree was there.”

  “Yep,” said Jack, “But I think that rules both Steve and — of course — Will out, yes?”

  “Agree.”

  “Meanwhile,” he said, turning and pointing, “Danny Klein and Mrs Arnold were somewhere over there, at the edge of those woods.”

  “The two of them, off on their own. We can imagine why.”

  Sarah looked across the flat grassy ridge to the trees where the two dogs were now joyfully hunting rabbits.

  “Though accounts so far differ as to quite how close to each other they were,” said Jack.

  “Very close from your American bunch’s account. I can’t wait to meet them by the way.”

  “Oh, they’re a riot” said Jack. “They didn’t exactly make me homesick. Anyhow, that leaves Julie Klein. Where was she?”

  “The one that complains a lot, hmm? She a potential spy? Or killer?”

  Jack laughed. “If she is — then she’s a master of disguise.”

  “And, of course, we have absolutely no motive.”

  Jack laughed. “There is that little issue. But, maybe you’ll find a link online between any of our walkers and Susan,” said Jack. “Which leaves the mysterious figure in the mist.”

  Sarah looked around the jagged rocks of the crag carefully. “Of course, if somebody knew this was the group’s destination, they could easily hide in these rocks, waiting.”

  She saw Jack nod.

  “Sure. Possible,” he said, looking around. “Guess they’d have to park the other side of the hill, climb up a different way. I mean, so as not be seen as they came close to the group. But hold on — didn’t Heidi say she saw somebody earlier, on the walk up?”

  “Could be two people? One tailing, one already up here waiting on the crag?”

  “Yeah — that’s how I’d do it,” said Jack working his way along the crag. She saw him stop: “Oh. Now this is interesting.”

  Sarah manoeuvred carefully over the crag to where Jack stood, peering down into a deep hollow in the rock. It was easily big enough for somebody to hide there.

  “Look down there. See the cigarette ends… and footprints?” said Jack. “Somebody’s been up here, and recently.”

  Sarah looked down. The footprints were large with a zig-zag pattern, probably trainers of some kind, and clearly fresh. She took out her phone, grabbed a picture of the prints.

  “Evidence,” she said, “of a sort. The ’figure’ that Stephanie saw?”

  “Maybe. Slim. Not much to go on,” said Jack.

  “No. So, we done up here?

  “Sure. Our dogs have certainly had a good run.”

  Sarah picked her way carefully back over the sharp rocks and jumped down onto the grass.

  “Nearly nine o’clock,” she said. “Time I was in the office. Been so busy lately.”

  She called to Digby, who amazingly came first time, followed by Riley.

  “Funny how obedient they get when they haven’t had their breakfast, isn’t it?” said Jack, joining her.

  Then, together they set off along the ridge back to the wooded track.

  *

  Jack gingerly stepped over the stile, wincing as he did so.

  Though he’d made light of it, Sarah knew that his knee and hips were still painful from his accident. This terrain, tough on them.

  She handed the dogs’ leads over the stile while they squeezed through the wooden bars, then climbed over after them.

  Together they walked down the muddy track.

  “Hey, big news — forgot to say — I’m looking at a possible new car this morning.”

  “Great,” said Sarah. “You going to give me a hint what it is?”

  “Um, I don’t think so. Think I’ll surprise you. That was the deal, remember?”

  “I do,” said Sarah, thinking back to that terrible day when Jack’s Sprite had been smashed into pieces. And how for one dreadful moment she’d feared he’d gone.

  “Penny for them,” said Jack. “Your thoughts, that is.”

  “Hmm? Oh, just planning the day,” she said. “Reckon I might be able to find some time in the office this morning to do some searches — starting with the mysterious Susan Braithwaite.”

  “Great. See what you can find on the whole group. Something not quite right about that cheery foursome from the Big Apple.”

  “Heidi and Stephanie too?”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Jack. “What’s the deal with the film? Stephanie’s photos?”

  “Daniel’s got a pal at school who works on the school website, a photo buff. The whole thing intrigued them both. You know Daniel. So, the two of them are going to develop the film after school. He said he’d give me a call when they got the negatives and are ready to print.”

  “Sounds good,” said Jack.

  They rounded a bend in the trail and Sarah could see her car parked where they had left it a few hundred yards ahead.

  But something wasn’t right.

  The front passenger door was open.

  And a figure was bent double inside.

  “Jack!”

  “Hey!” he shouted.

  Sarah saw the figure jolt upright and step back from the car. A young guy in jeans and a hoody.

  The man saw Sarah and Jack, turned and ran towards the road. Sarah started to run down the hill towards them — but as the man reached the road, a silver car shot into view, slid to a halt, the man jumped in, and they were gone.

  Sarah kept running down to her car. When she reached it, the door was still open. None of the windows were smashed.

  How the hell did they get in? she thought.

  Then Jack, also hurrying despite his pain was standing beside her, the dogs on their leads nervous, spooked.

>   “Damn. You leave anything valuable in the car?” he said.

  “No,” she said, hurriedly searching. “Always take bag and phone with me.”

  “Guess we’re lucky. Just some guys taking a chance.”

  Sarah popped open the little drawer by the dashboard — and saw it was empty.

  “Hang on. They weren’t just some guys, Jack,” she said. “They took one thing.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. My notebook — with all the interviews.”

  And as this sank in, she suddenly felt scared.

  Joan Buckland had said the improbable word first: murder.

  Now — maybe not so improbable.

  “Jack, just who are we dealing with here?”

  10. Warnings

  Jack sat opposite Alan Rivers in the tiny back office of Cherringham police station, waiting while the policeman finished his phone call.

  Sarah had dropped Jack off in the market square while she went to her office to catch up on her work.

  Jack had wasted no time walking up to the police station. He had questions to ask, and he hoped he’d get some answers.

  Everything about this case was beginning to smell bad.

  If Heidi Blake was right about Susan Braithwaite, then the attempt on her life had to be connected with the break-in to Sarah’s car.

  And as the local cop, Alan Rivers was sure to know something about it.

  But when Jack had arrived just minutes ago, Alan had been on a call and had just waved him through to the back office to wait. Ten minutes later, the call was still going on.

  Alan slid his pack of cookies across the table to Jack, nodding an invitation to take one.

  Jack shook his head. Slid the cookies back. Finally, the call ended, and as Alan put the phone down, Jack saw instantly from his nervous expression that the young cop knew exactly why Jack was here.

  “Jack,” he said, “what can I do for you?”

  “Susan Braithwaite,” said Jack. “Alan, what’s going on?”

  “Sorry, I’m not following. You mean the lady who fell — had the accident?”

  “Come on. We know, and you know, that was no accident. And I’m guessing you also know that Susan Braithwaite is more than just the financial analyst she claims to be?”