by Jo Allen
Closing her eyes, Ashleigh tried to read the facts in front of her. You couldn’t speculate, but you had to interpret. ‘Assuming the person who started the fire is the killer. There may be more than one person involved.’
‘No need to fall asleep on the job,’ Jude observed, with the merest hint of sarcasm. ‘But yes. You’re right.’
She opened her eyes again. ‘I was thinking. Sorry. It’s a habit.’ And they all had their mannerisms – Tammy tapping fingers on the desk, Doddsy inspecting his nicotine stained fingernails as though desperate for a smoke. Even Jude himself wasn’t immune – he’d already displayed a habit of sitting so still in moments of concentration that he was barely breathing.
‘It was a joke. Carry on.’
‘Yes. The thing that strikes me is what it tells us about an escape route. If the fire was set there, then whoever set it either had to run ahead of it, past the burning building, and head back via the village, or they had to go the other way over the hill and escape by foot. Unless, as you said, they went by boat.’
‘A grass fire can move at up to fourteen miles per hour.’ Chris’s fingers had been moving swiftly on the keys since Doddsy had spoken. ‘I don’t know what the wind speed was yesterday.’
‘There was a stiff breeze, and the fire was moving fast. I saw it from a distance.’ Jude turned his pen over in his fingers. ‘You wouldn’t want to be in front of it, though of course it doesn’t mean our suspect isn’t an accomplished fell runner. But yes – I think we can assume that, however they arrived, the suspect didn’t leave through Burnbanks. So that means asking questions over in Martindale, doesn’t it? Who raised the alarm?’
Doddsy consulted his notes again. ‘A Mark Webber from Manchester. He’d had lunch at the Haweswater Hotel and noticed it when he was out on the terrace taking photographs. I’ve asked for the pictures he took – they’ll help us to rule a boat in or out. He mentioned it to the hotel staff and they called the fire brigade. That was at half two. He was clear that he saw two separate fires. Which constrains our times quite nicely.’
‘They’d merged by the time I saw them.’ Jude rubbed his chin. ‘That was about an hour afterwards.’
‘There’s no possibility that the child killed himself, is there?’ Because sometimes, Ashleigh knew, you had to ask the difficult questions and she sensed that no one around her was ready to ask this one.
Jude was very still again, deep in thought. ‘We can’t rule out that a deeply troubled child of that age might take his own life, no. But I’d need to be convinced of how it happened, and if it did happen then there must have been someone there with him to cut him down and go to some considerable lengths to try and conceal what happened. Until someone can come up with an explanation we’ll continue to treat this as homicide.’
*
‘You’ve got to make allowances. He’s a nice enough guy really. But he was up all last night on this one.’
Jude, standing staring in perplexity at the whiteboard, spun round on his heel in irritation, then controlled himself and turned back, leaving Doddsy to make the apology to the new sergeant that he should have been making himself. Tiredness wasn’t an excuse. Tammy, without even the couple of hours’ sleep that he’d managed, had maintained her good humour. He picked up his phone and checked his messages. The fire brigade, confirming the initial conclusion that it was arson and so almost certainly making it murder. The press officer, alerting him to the fact that the newspapers were onto it and wondering if he wanted to make a statement. And Mikey.
Buggered off back to Newcastle. Thinking of booking a late break to Ibiza with the guys.
‘You okay, Jude?’ Tammy tapped him on the shoulder. ‘I think I’m heading back home to catch up on some sleep. You should do the same yourself.’
Tammy’s son, Tyrone, was the same age as Mikey. She’d understand. He turned the phone towards her and showed her the message. ‘For God’s sake. There’s no end to the trouble that Mikey could get himself into in Ibiza with his mates.’
‘Boys will be boys.’
‘Yes, but he—’
‘He’ll drink too much, and make a prat of himself. They all do. And if he does get himself into trouble, he’s someone else’s responsibility, not yours.’
‘It’ll be me that has to fly out there and bail him out.’
‘Jude. It won’t happen. You’re harsh on the poor kid.’
‘You know why.’ Who didn’t?
‘I know he got himself into a mess a few years ago, but kids of that age always push the boundaries. It’s part of growing up. And yes, you had to bail him out then, but I think he’ll have learned his lesson. So don’t fret.’ She picked up her bag. ‘I really am going now. I’ll be in first thing tomorrow, but I’m dead on my feet right now.’
‘You’ve done a great job.’
‘I just want to help nail any bastard who goes around killing kids, or even helping them to kill themselves. That’s all.’
It was what they all wanted. Jude allowed himself another moment to dwell on the prospect of his younger brother running wild in Ibiza, before allowing sound common sense and Tammy’s words of wisdom to prevail. Mikey would be all right and if he wasn’t, it was too bad. There were things that had to take priority.
He turned back again. Doddsy was back at his desk, all nonchalance, Ashleigh was away back out of the door to catch up with the inquiry on the ground. He seized the chance of a moment with his number two. ‘When I need you to make an apology on my behalf, I’ll ask you. Otherwise, let me make it myself.’
Doddsy stuck his hands in his pockets, as if to signify that it was no big deal. ‘You’re a bad tempered sod when you’re tired, and we’re all used to you. Ashleigh isn’t. I thought you were hard on the girl, so I tried to make her feel welcome, that’s all.’
‘She isn’t a girl. She’s a highly regarded police officer and I’ll treat her the same way as I would anyone else. I’m sure she can look after herself.’ For the life of him, he couldn’t work out what it was about Ashleigh O’Halloran that had annoyed him. It might have been that confidence, or the accent that implied a cosseted background and an associated entitlement, or the obvious sexuality that was bound to prove a distraction no one needed. Or it might have been the sense that she read everybody around her too well for comfort. It was good enough when you were talking to suspects or witnesses, but he wasn’t ready to expose his own weaknesses to someone else’s judgement.
‘She can. I’m sure of that. But this is day one of a new job. She doesn’t know us, she doesn’t know the system. And actually, why should she? Cut her some slack, eh? And she’ll be a good team member.’
Jude sighed. He was tired. That was the explanation. And Doddsy was right, and he traded too much on the understanding of those around him and their tolerance of his idiosyncrasies. ‘She shouldn’t need a babysitter.’
‘She doesn’t. Just the same respect you give everyone else.’
‘Okay. Fair point.’ And Jude headed for the coffee machine and another shot of stimulation to see him through the day.
7
Ashleigh, walking up what passed for the main street in Burnbanks to catch up with the constable she’d left as a visible – and comforting – presence to the villagers, reviewed her first morning in her new job, thankful that it had passed without incident. Change, especially when it was forced on you by your own bad choices, was traumatic but she wasn’t a woman to buckle under pressure. You aren’t hard to knock down, her estranged husband, Scott, used to say to her in what passed for admiration, but you’re impossible to keep down.
Thank God for that. In the sun, with the fells above her burnished to copper by the summer sun, she could leave Scott and his valueless compliments behind and focus upon the positive side of change. Encouraging Doddsy, brisk and businesslike Tammy, Chris with his puppy like enthusiasm and even the brooding dark presence of Jude Satterthwaite – she thought of his brusqueness with a slight frown – were her new colleagues and her fut
ure friends.
Andrea Innes, who kept the village shop, had cleared out her front room in her next door cottage to allow the police a visible presence for twenty-four hours or so. Walking past, Ashleigh saw the officer on duty, PC Lennon, sitting in the window engaged in conversation with an elderly man. Good – so the visible presence was having some kind of impact, even if it was only attracting the fascinated attention of the locals. But how long was it useful to keep it there?
She stepped into the shop. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Innes. I just want to thank you again for letting us use your home.’
‘Not at all.’ The shop was empty, silent but for a radio playing an old Smiths song and the ineffectual whirring of an electric fan in the corner. In the morning there had been a flurry of people, all interested in what was going on, all keen to pick up on the tale that lay behind the blue and white police tape that cut off the road at the end of the village. ‘I’m only glad to be of help. Is there any more news about the body?’ Mrs Innes leaned over the counter and looked at her visitor keenly. Meeting her gaze, Ashleigh judged the shopkeeper as someone who gathered information and traded it in kind, who gave with the expectation of receiving.
Not with the police, though. ‘I can’t tell you any more than was on the news this morning.’ Doddsy had put out a one line statement about human remains being found on the hillside, but you couldn’t hold off natural curiosity for much longer. Her trip to the village in the morning had shown her how easily everyone had assumed an association with the previous day’s excitement.
‘Dead in the fire, I suppose?’ The woman raised pious eyes to the sky. ‘Poor soul, whoever it was. Maybe some picnicker who fell asleep with a cigarette? Or lit a campfire? Though why anyone would light a fire in this heat beats me.’
‘It’s what we’re trying to find out, Mrs Innes.’ Ashleigh rebuffed the request for grim detail with her brightest smile. ‘I don’t suppose you saw anything?’
‘We did have a few people through the shop yesterday morning. Your guys will have seen everyone up in the village by now.’
‘It’s the walkers and possible witnesses we need to try and contact right now. I expect DCI Satterthwaite will be making an appeal for them to come forward this afternoon. We may get some information from that. Or, with your permission, I’d like to bring the team back up at the weekend to see if we can jog any memories from people who come up here regularly.’ Assuming, of course, that they hadn’t made any progress by then.
‘Jude Satterthwaite, you say?’ Her expression hardening, the shopkeeper folded her arms across her ample bosom in a gesture of resistance.
‘Yes. You know him?’
‘Of course I know him. His mum lives up the road in Wasby. I can remember Jude when he was knee high to a grasshopper. I never thought thirty years ago that he’d turn into quite such a pillar of the community as he likes to pretend.’ Mrs Innes’s disapproval filled the shop.
Everyone always wanted to tell their story, whether it was relevant or irrelevant. Ashleigh sighed. ‘All kids are a bit wild, in my opinion.’ Though she couldn’t quite get her head around fierce, austere Jude raising merry hell in some rural village with the other kids.
‘Wildness isn’t the issue here. I judge people by what they grow up into.’
‘I’m new here.’ Whatever Mrs Innes assumed she knew, Ashleigh really wasn’t interested in discussing it, or, at least, not when there was work to be done. Over a pub lunch with a friend when the work was done and the case solved was one thing. On duty with a stranger was quite another. ‘I’ve only just moved up.’
‘Well, if you ask me, the fact that your chief inspector isn’t showing up in the village tells a story in itself.’
Ashleigh sighed again, but she managed to hide it, even turn it into an ingratiating smile. This wasn’t the reception she’d expected, nor one she particularly welcomed. ‘DCI Satterthwaite has a lot to do back in the office.’
‘Too big for his boots, that young man, and far too important for the rest of us. You won’t find many people keen to talk to him, the way he treats his so-called friends. You’re far better getting some of the others on the ground. People like yourself, very friendly. I’m not against the police the way some people are. I was brought up to trust them. But sometimes they let you down.’
‘I’m quite sure DCI Satterthwaite does whatever he thinks is right.’
‘Aye, and what he thinks is right maybe isn’t what the rest of us do.’ Mrs Innes’s face clouded with annoyance, as if at a prodigal son. ‘I dare say he’s not brave enough to show his face around here on business.’
‘DCI Satterthwaite is mainly office based. We have a specific external team of officers who run the house to house inquiries, and it’s my responsibility to co-ordinate them. But of course, you’ll know that. And as I said, we couldn’t do it without you. I can’t thank you enough.’
‘If you’ve time for a coffee,’ Mrs Innes, abandoning her character assassination of Jude, turned to the kettle that sat behind the counter, ‘I have something to tell you. I didn’t get the chance to talk to your constables this morning. There were too many people in the shop. But when I was thinking about it, I did remember something.’
Ashleigh had been about to excuse herself and go next door to see PC Lennon, but turned back. ‘Oh?’
‘Yes. There was a young couple who came through here yesterday morning. They caught my eye.’
Ashleigh flipped out her notebook. ‘Do you mind if I jot this down?’ You never knew. It might be important.
‘No, of course, dear.’ Mrs Innes seemed almost gratified. She might not be keen to tell her story to Jude, or even to PC Lennon – Ashleigh wasn’t so naive as to think that she hadn’t had her opportunity – but she seemed to have decided that Ashleigh herself was trustworthy. ‘Though they weren’t murderers, I’ll swear.’
Nobody but Mrs Innes herself had said anything about murder. Ashleigh smiled at how the human mind leapt to the most alarming possibility. ‘Tell me what happened.’
‘They came through yesterday morning. About elevenish, I’d say. In a camper van. And came into the shop.’
‘Both of them?’ Ashleigh raised an eyebrow.
‘Yes. They were looking for somewhere to park up and have a picnic. I did tell them that you couldn’t get very far up that track before you have to turn back. It only goes as far as the edge of the woods. But they went on anyway. You can’t tell people from the city about the countryside. They don’t want to learn.’ She pursed her lips.
‘Do you know for certain they were from the city?’
‘Oh, yes. They told me so. The girl said they were up from Manchester for a day out. They’d driven up in the morning and were driving back in the afternoon. Just going for a walk, they said. They were very free with their information.’
Free with their information probably meant nothing, but Ashleigh underlined that in her notes anyway. ‘And can you describe this couple?’
‘Oh, now you’re asking. It was busy. People come through so quickly, and they weren’t in here for long. I did think the girl looked like the woman off the telly. The one who won last year’s Bake Off, only younger and blonde. They might have been in their early twenties.’
‘Natural blonde?’
‘Oh, heavens, no. They’re all from the bottle these days.’ Andrea Innes looked severely at Ashleigh, whose blondeness was of the natural kind. ‘And tied back in a ponytail, like yours. She wasn’t tall – a few inches shorter than you, maybe. In jeans and a tee shirt. A blue one, with Harry Styles on the front of it. Her name was Harriet. She was the driver.’
Goodness: what a breakthrough this was. Even a name. ‘She told you that?’
‘No, but that’s what he called her. I didn’t get his name. He was quite tall and thin. Jeans, too. A Manchester United football shirt and a tattoo of the club crest. Here.’ She tapped her forearm. ‘They bought a map and a couple of bottles of water.’
‘And that was at eleven o�
��clock?’
‘Yes, and they came back through a couple of hours later. Obviously they couldn’t drive as far up as they thought they could, stopped and had their picnic and drove back. They didn’t stop in on the way back. I saw them go past, though, and she waved.’
‘A couple of hours later, you said. One o’clock, maybe?’
‘Maybe a little after.’
‘I don’t suppose you got a registration number?’
‘Good heavens, no. If I’d known what was going to happen I would have done. But hindsight’s a wonderful thing, isn’t it?’
‘It certainly is.’ Ashleigh closed her notebook. ‘Thanks, Mrs Innes.’
‘Was that any help? Do you think they did it?’
‘I’ve no idea. But obviously we need to try and trace anyone who was around, if only to eliminate them from our inquiries. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to make a full statement to PC Lennon.’ Thankfully the duty constable had been equipped with laptop and printer. ‘She can print it off and we can get you to read it and sign it.’
*
‘I don’t know if this is a breakthrough or not,’ she said to Doddsy, standing on the end of the dam in the sunshine and looking along the length of Haweswater towards peaks she knew from the map to be Rough Crag and Harter Fell. In Cheshire, a week before, she’d been tramping around the grey council flats of Runcorn in pursuit of drug dealers. Crime was crime wherever you went, but the scenery around her was a perk of the job so good it should be taxable. She wondered if her colleagues ever got tired of it. ‘But a young couple drove up through Burnbanks yesterday morning in a camper van. Mrs Innes in the shop saw them, and she’s giving a statement to PC Lennon as we speak. She’ll send it straight through to you when it’s done.’
She hadn’t known the man for eight hours, but she sensed his buzz of excitement, even at the far end of the phone. ‘That’s not what you call a breakthrough? It sounds gold to me. Do we have a description?’
‘We have a full description, though no number for the van.’ Out of sight of the public, she succumbed to the heat, slipped off her jacket and loosened the top button on her shirt. ‘We know where they said they were from and we know where they said they were going. We know they drove up to the end of the road and back again a couple of hours later. In theory, it’s all very promising.’
