Stella had left her phone on the table. He looked at the picture of Hindle as a girl. A freak of nature. Once a person crossed the murder line, it was easy to cross it again. Once a killer, always a killer. Yet Stella had a point, it didn’t mean that Hindle had murdered Rachel Cater. Jack’s mind was slammed shut. He wanted Hindle to be guilty. He wanted her sent back to prison. This time life would mean life.
In this frame of mind Jack grabbed Stella’s phone and Googled Agnes Cater. To his surprise she wasn’t ex-directory. From then, silver-tongued as he could be, the rest was plain sailing.
‘You look chirpy,’ Stella said when she returned.
‘We’re having tea with Rachel Cater’s mother.’
‘Where?’ Not the question that Jack had expected.
‘Lower Slaughter.’ Jack tried not to bat an eye.
*
Lower Slaughter was a village forty minutes from Winchcombe. More convenient than Cheltenham where Agnes Cater lived, because it was on the way back to London. Agnes Cater had suggested it because the café there did lovely cakes.
They were journalists doing a profile piece on Rachel, Jack had told Mrs Cater. It would cover her achievements, dreams and desires.
The village was teeming with tourists, sitting on the grassy banks by a stream, fingering leather goods in the shop as they ate ice creams.
They found Agnes Cater in the café’s garden. Small as a sparrow, sharp eyes flitting, she beckoned them to a table away from customers. She had parked a walker behind her. Jack marvelled that she’d negotiated the steps and narrow path to get there. He took a breath. Stella had said that the interview would be one of the hardest they had done.
When a young woman came for their order, Agnes Cater was still deciding and suggested they go first. Not hungry, good manners propelled Stella to opt for a slice of lemon drizzle. After not eating the quiche at the Winchcombe deli, Jack was ready for a cream tea. Agnes Cater asked for cup of tea.
‘I’ll be mother.’ She poured them each a cup.
Jack didn’t dare look at Stella.
‘Tell us about Rachel.’ Stella unfolded a napkin.
‘I’m recording this. I’ve learnt the hard way not to trust even the nicest of people.’ Agnes Cater dabbed at an iPhone in front of her. ‘You’d expect me to say so, but Rachel was a wonderful daughter. She was clever, sailed through her exams with a first in Art and English. It was Rach and me from when she was five. We were close. Too close. I tried not to hold her back.’ She spoke with a Gloucestershire burr.
‘I lived with my mum from the age of seven, when my parents separated.’ Stella offered something of herself. ‘We had a dog. A spaniel named Hector.’
‘You’ll know then.’ Mrs Cater drank her tea with her little finger raised.
Jack believed that Stella had loved Hector. He had stayed with Terry when Stella moved to Baron’s Court. No pets were allowed in the flat.
‘I warned her about Christopher. “He’s a married man, Rach, will he leave his wife? Do you really want him to?” Rach was in love, she wouldn’t listen. We don’t, do we. I’m not judgemental. Rachel’s dad was divorced when we met. He wasn’t young, bless him, we didn’t have him long.’ Mrs Cater rested her cup on the saucer with particular care and contemplated the view.
‘Did you meet Christopher Philips?’ Jack said.
‘You don’t have to meet a person to know them. Rachel was biased towards him, yet she painted a figure I knew not to trust. I was so worried for her. At the start he was going to train her in antiques. After six months Rachel was still typing. He had her buying his presents for his family. Perfume for his daughter. Rach had to send his wife flowers on her birthday. It must have been torture, but she never complained. Once that hotel business started, there was no more talk of training. I knew he wasn’t going to give up his life for her.’
‘Did you say that to her?’ Stella embarked on the cake.
‘You have to let children learn from their mistakes.’
There are some mistakes from which there is no return. Jack piled cream and jam on a fruit scone. Everyone looked at the view.
‘Did she tell you how it started?’ Stella said at last.
‘As she put it, “We fell into each other’s arms.”’ Agnes Cater laughed without a trace of humour. ‘Rachel came home that day full of how it was love at first sight and he felt the same. I’d suspected she’d liked him when he gave her the job. I hoped his marriage was rock solid. Rachel wasn’t a marriage wrecker, but cooped up in that shop…’ She sighed. ‘Rachel was hurt too many times. When she said he’d told her he loved her, I tried to hope it would be different with him.’
‘So nothing specific happened to make him say that?’ Jack asked. Did Mrs Cater know about Penelope Philips’ past?
‘Not that Rachel said. She was a romantic. No harm in that.’ Mrs Cater topped up their teas. ‘I suspected he’d had a row with his wife. Or maybe he couldn’t hold off any longer.’ She offered a shrug. ‘If it had been love at first sight, why didn’t he tell her earlier?’
Jack slid Stella’s plate across and set to on her cake. Stella shot him a glance of thanks that would melt glaciers. He longed to tell Mrs Cater how he’d loved Stella from the moment he’d met her, but hadn’t had the courage to do anything about it for years.
‘I wonder if Rachel wasn’t searching for her dad. I’d made him out to be perfect. For her sake. I wanted him to shine in her memory. He wasn’t perfect. No man is. I should have said so.’
As he finished the cake, Jack considered that Rachel had been hurt again, except this time she never recovered. Stella interrupted his thoughts.
‘…had enough bother from the press. We won’t add to it with another article.’ Stella rose to go. Jack saw why. She found their deception unbearable.
‘That’s a shame, dear. I’d have liked a happy story about Rachel in the papers. I’ve brought pictures. I’ve got her exam certificates. Jack said that Rachel should be remembered for more than the way she died.’ No acrimony, no recrimination. Mrs Cater was a woman who accepted things as they were.
The food was a lump in his stomach. Heavy as his conscience. Agnes Cater had given life to Rachel and she had outlived her. They had offered a chance to restore a semblance of Rachel, to breathe life into her memory. Now they were taking it away.
‘…I do understand. Good news isn’t much of a story.’
‘Yes. Yes. It is a story!’ Stella sat down again. ‘We will run it. We’ll do Rachel justice. I promise.’
‘And how are we going to do that?’ Jack asked Stella as they stood by the stream watching Mrs Cater’s VW Polo drive away.
‘Lucie May will do it.’ Stella was steely. ‘Even if I have to stand over her as she types.’
Chapter Twenty-One
1980
‘There’s someone in there.’
‘As I explained, Danielle, we’re recording this.’ Terry was amazed that the girl had spotted that the mirror was two-way. Cashman was watching from behind the glass, sulking because Janet was sitting in with Terry. He hadn’t bought that two hulking blokes wasn’t fair to the girl. With more to learn, the young man didn’t want to be fair to Danielle Hindle.
‘You’re a bloody fish in a tank, babes!’ Eddie appeared delighted that his daughter had spotted it.
Terry was before his time in believing that a child should have an adult advocate, but Eddie wasn’t a good fit. Joy Hindle had said, ‘I’ve washed my hands of her’ and ignored Danielle’s ‘See you soon, Mum.’ Joy had known that her daughter wasn’t coming back.
An hour into the interview Danielle was sticking to her story. In comparison, Parsley had been a pushover.
‘What did you do on Tuesday afternoon last week, Danni?’ Terry had adopted the girl’s shortened name.
‘I went to the playground. The one in the park where me and you looked for clues about Sarah. School’s stupid.’ Bobbing about on her chair, Danielle was curiously excited.
Da
nielle had told him she liked school. She’d be sucking up to Eddie who doubtless went through school without touching the sides.
‘What time did you get to the playground?’ Terry was keeping it simple and friendly. No accusations, no tripping up, just fact-finding.
‘Ten minutes to two o’clock. After dinner time when I had chips and stew.’ Sitting on her hands, Danielle thrust forward happily. ‘I like that best. Do you?’
‘Do you, Constable Darnell?’ Smirking, Eddie tried to goad Terry with the lower rank.
‘Yes, I do.’ It was stew for lunch the day his dad died. ‘Who was with you?’
‘Lee came with Sarah and Jason. Nicola wasn’t meant be there.’ Danielle bounced on her chair. ‘I said we weren’t there, but she never does what I want.’
‘You lied?’ Terry introduced the concept.
‘You have to do that or she follows Lee about.’ As if explaining to an idiot. Not wrong, Danielle’s IQ dwarfed his own. ‘She split me and Lee up.’
‘How did she do that?’ Nicola Walsh had struck him as off with the fairies, incapable of caring who went out with who. Danielle hadn’t grasped the enormity of her situation. Losing Lee Marshall would be nothing to the nightmare of what lay ahead. She appeared enthused by the whole experience. Terry felt a tremor of doubt. If he’d got this wrong, that was his career down the toilet.
‘She got scared of the man from Abba and Lee had to go help her. I was minding Jason. We went home.’ Butter wouldn’t melt.
‘What about Sarah, where was she?’
‘Looking for her bracelet, most likely. We all did.’ Danielle heaved an exaggerated sigh and wriggled on the seat.
‘Keep still.’ Eddie was getting restless.
The children’s statements all said that they had searched for Sarah Ferris’s charm bracelet.
‘Did you see that Sarah was still there when you left the playground?’
‘No. Because she wasn’t.’
‘Where was she?’
‘How should I know?’ She wriggled on her hands and shot a grin at her father. Lounging in his chair, Eddie looked bored. ‘Sarah was hiding from the man.’
‘Do you mean Mr Parsley?’ Janet asked nicely.
‘Mr Parsley.’ Eddie guffawed. He caught Janet’s expression and sweeping back a hank of hair did a naughty boy face.
‘That man was the one who murdered her,’ Danielle said.
‘Where was Sarah when Mr Parsley murdered her?’ Terry noticed that Eddie was alert. He was cottoning on. Murder was way out of his league.
‘I said. In the playground. She hid in the bushes to get away from… he found her because she doesn’t know when to keep her mouth shut.’
‘Who was she hiding from, Danni?’
‘How should I know?’ Her first mistake.
‘Was it you?’ He was careful not to lead her.
‘I expect she was looking for her bracelet.’ The girl didn’t hesitate.
‘You told Lucille May, the reporter, that Derek Parsley attacked Sarah. But you weren’t there. Why did you say that?’ Terry smoothed his tie. Nothing at police college had prepared him for this.
‘She said I’d be on telly.’ Arms folded, hard stare. ‘I saw you and her.’
‘Getting his leg over! What’ll your boss say about that?’ Eddie pounced. Terry felt sick. Had she seen Lucie in his house? Did Danielle Hindle know where he lived?
‘You can’t keep my little girl here, it’s illegal.’ As protective parent, Eddie was unconvincing. While knowing the mirror was two-way, Eddie couldn’t help but check his hair.
‘Danielle can stay all night answering our questions, you know that, Eddie,’ Terry told him. ‘Danielle, do you remember telling me you want to be a detective?’
‘Yes,’ she piped. ‘I’m on your team.’
Eddie Hindle grimaced. His daughter crossing to the dark side and joining the force was worse than murder.
‘To be clear, Danielle, did you run home without Sarah when you saw the man?’ Janet was offering her a wrong way out.
‘She said so, didn’t she? That creep did it. Now, thanks to you, he’s dead. Why are we here?’ Visibly nervous, Eddie Hindle had got why they were there.
‘Unless you want a perjury charge, you’ll shut up!’ Terry told him.
‘Sarah could have come too. She wouldn’t.’
‘You asked her, did you?’ Janet’s trap sprung.
‘I’m not sorry that man’s dead!’ Ignoring Janet, Danielle eyed Terry over the can of Coke he’d got her from the machine. ‘I never touched him.’
‘We know that, Danielle.’ She knew they knew. She was spinning out time. She too had all night. Terry pictured Danielle at school, dominating, contrary, answering back, her popularity in proportion to her ability to scare. In the next days Danielle Hindle would become the most hated girl in the land.
‘Lee was going to buy one for me.’ She picked a graze on her arm and pinched the skin so that it bled. Janet gave her a tissue. The look that Danielle gave Janet could have killed.
‘Danni, talk us through what you know.’ Janet was a confidential friend.
‘She got hit,’ Danielle told Terry.
‘Where was she hit?’ Janet echoed the passive phrasing.
‘On the neck.’ Perched on a cushion to raise her, Danielle sipped the Coke ruminatively. ‘With a brick. Like this.’ Danielle jumped up and did a handstand. ‘It was crunchy, the man said. Sarah stopped breathing.’
‘Where was this?’ Janet took a while with the follow-up as the truth sank in.
‘He told me by the railway bridge.’ A trap avoided. She was bloody smart.
‘Don’t tell them nothing.’ Eddie tried to head them off. ‘And get up right now. Stop your bloody showing off.’
‘The attacker applied considerable strength, the neck is crushed.’ Terry cleared his throat as he recalled Mike Sutherland’s report.
‘Did you do a handstand on the brick. On Sarah’s neck?’
‘That’s what the man from Abba did. I saw it from the bandstand.’
‘It’s not possible to see the bushes from the bandstand.’ Janet was kindly.
‘You lot should shut up!’ Danielle lost her temper.
‘When exactly did Parsley tell you this?’ Terry gave an encouraging smile. ‘Or did you see him?’
‘It’s you that needs to be quiet.’ Eddie gripped her arm.
‘The day after. When he had blood on him. I said go to the police or you’re in for it.’
Lucie was right. Danielle had run rings around him. Concentric bloody circles. Yet still, Terry longed to be convinced that everything she said was true. She was just a little girl who’d seen a terrible thing. She was in shock. Parsley had been their man.
‘We arrested Derek Parsley the night that Sarah was attacked.’ Janet adopted a puzzled air. ‘You couldn’t have seen him the day after, Danielle.’
‘Mind your fucking nose!’ Terry was almost reassured that Danielle could be a straightforward stroppy kid. ‘I already told the reporter about the crunchy sound of the brick on her neck. I was going to be on the news, but she lied.’
‘Shut up!’ her father shouted. ‘They can’t do nothing if you zip your bloody mouth.’
‘Anything.’ Danielle lost her temper. Eyes were cold and unblinking. ‘It’s anything. If I do nothing I do nothing. If I can’t do nothing what does that mean? It means I do some-thing!’ No one was better at grammar than Danielle. She always sat in the front row at school.
‘Don’t come the fucking posh with me. You’re not top of the class now. Even I know what they’re after.’ Eddie jumped up, kicking back his chair. It fell back with a crash. ‘We are going.’
‘Stay there.’ Terry strode around the table, righted the chair and pointed at it. Hindle, suddenly meek, returned to it and sat down, hands clasped behind his neck.
For a moment no one spoke or moved.
‘Danielle Hindle, I’m arresting you for murder…’ Terry recited th
e words.
‘Dad, tell him to stop. Say I’m a detective!’ Danielle suddenly clung to her father.
‘…do not have to say anything…’
Tears coursing down his cheeks, Eddie Hindle couldn’t reply.
Chapter Twenty-Two
2019
Earl’s Court. 1.05 a.m. Jack must reach that lamp-post before another vehicle passed him. Avoiding cracks in the paving he was walking home after his shift on the London Underground. Lucie said that he made life hard for himself (‘Just avoid dog shit, that is bad luck’). Stella said that the cracks were freeze-thaw effect and nothing else. Jack knew they were signs. However obscure his gods, he must appease them.
He scrutinized pedestrians, tourists, clubbers and shift workers, alert for the impassive stare of a True Host. No one held his gaze as they skirted the homeless bundled under duvet mounds in doorways and on pavements.
Jack cut into a residential street. He was struggling with a dilemma. He desperately wanted to bail out of the case, but couldn’t bear to let Stella down.
Jackie said that children must be allowed to fly free to be themselves. He agreed. Then thinking of Justin and Milly waking up in a house with Harry made his stomach clench and blackness descend.
To catch a murderer you must have the mind of a murderer.
Jack had that mind. Stella needed his mind. They had solved cases because his left-field methods complemented her law-abiding ones. Stella was too honest a personality to get into the mind of a murderer. He could go to Gloucestershire and watch Hindle. Learn her habits. Eventually Hindle would reveal herself and he’d discover if she had killed Rachel Cater. Honesty didn’t pay with the likes of Hindle. She’d run rings around them.
He could say he was ill and didn’t want to pass it on. He’d played down the level of danger when Stella brought it up. He knew that there was a dangerous killer out there. And he knew who it was. Penny Philips (Danielle Hindle to him) had been angry that Carrie had involved Clean Slate. A True Host, Hindle would think nothing of removing someone in her way. Only Jack could stop her.
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