Call to Arms

by Rachel Amphlett

  ‘My parents were mortified,’ said Bridget, and managed a small laugh. ‘Luckily, we’ve proved them wrong, and before they died they liked to spend summers here on the farm with us and the children.’

  ‘I understand that you inherited the farm, Michael. How long was that after you had returned from Germany?’

  ‘About nine months. I’d received word from my sister that my father had fallen ill, and we knew in our hearts that he didn’t have long. I spoke to my commanding officer, and we agreed that I would resign my commission in order to take over the running of the farm. My sister had no interest in the business – she lives in Scotland and had two small children at the time.’ He shrugged. ‘It was natural for me to take over the family business.’

  ‘When did Jamie come along?’

  ‘We’d lived here for a year or so when I found out I was expecting,’ said Bridget. ‘Finding out I was carrying twins was a bit of a shock – the harvest hadn’t been good that year, and money was tight.’

  Michael picked up the story. ‘I managed to borrow a bit of money from the bank to see us through. Luckily, I was able to pay off that loan in full the next year, but looking back it was quite a scary time for us.’

  ‘I’d imagine it must have been quite a juggling act for you, managing a farm with two small children running around,’ said Kay.

  ‘Except you don’t think about it at the time,’ said Bridget. ‘Looking back now, it seems quite idyllic, but you’re right – it was bloody hard work.’

  Kay placed her mug on the table and reached for her notebook, flipping through the pages.

  ‘I don’t recall the fact that Jamie and his sister being twins was captured in the original statements.’

  ‘That shows you how much notice the investigating detective gave to the case,’ said Bridget. ‘We did tell him, although Natalie has slightly darker hair than her brother, and she is quite different in personality.’

  ‘Headstrong,’ said Michael. He wore a rueful smile. ‘And she still manages to wind me around her little finger.’

  ‘How did she and Jamie get on?’

  ‘They were very close. When Jamie got into his motorcycling, Natalie was often the one building makeshift jumps and helping him build bridges over streams around here so he could test his skills.’

  ‘I’ll need to speak with Natalie, along with Jamie’s friends, but could you take me through the days leading up to his death?’

  Michael sighed, and pushed his coffee mug away. ‘I suppose it’s all hindsight, but something seemed to be troubling him. He’d returned from Afghanistan a couple of weeks before, and we didn’t see him for a few days. When he did turn up here, he seemed distracted and unable to settle.’

  ‘We tried talking to him,’ said Bridget, ‘but he wouldn’t tell us what was going on. At first, I thought he might be embarrassed about something that had happened – maybe he’d split up with a girl or something. I got more concerned as the days passed, because he seemed to retreat within himself. He’d mope around the farm, refusing to help Michael. I’d find him standing there, at the kitchen sink, staring into space through the window. I asked him what was the matter, but he wouldn’t tell me.’

  She broke off, and sniffed.

  ‘Was he ever treated for post-traumatic stress disorder?’

  ‘No – luckily for us, he never went out on patrol,’ said Michael. ‘His role was in supply and logistics, so he was always at the base. His job was to ensure the vehicles and equipment were available at all times, and kept in good condition.’

  ‘Did he talk to his sister at all during this time?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Michael. ‘Natalie was here three days before Jamie died. She tried her best to pull him out of his mood as well, but it seemed like she only made it worse. They had an argument late that afternoon – I didn’t hear what it was about, but knowing Natalie she was probably nagging him.’ He shrugged. ‘She’s not the most patient of people, and I think perhaps she might have had a go at him. Anyway, it ended with her storming out the door, and Jamie didn’t bother going after her.’

  ‘Did they argue often?’

  ‘They’d bicker, like any siblings do,’ said Bridget. ‘That was more like what happened. It didn’t seem like a huge argument. Just raised voices. I know Natalie was devastated when Jamie died – their last words were spoken in anger, after all.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I know this is difficult for you. On the day Jamie died, did anything unusual happen?’

  Michael sighed. ‘We told the detective at the time. Jamie got a call on his mobile phone late that night while he was still here. He wouldn’t say who it was from afterwards, and when he saw the number on the screen he went outside to answer it. I’ve got no idea what was said, but when he came back inside he looked physically sick. His face was pale, and I noticed his hands were shaking.’

  Bridget dabbed a tissue at her eyes. ‘He wouldn’t talk to us for the rest of the night. He disappeared up to his room, and I could hear him moving around. I went upstairs an hour later, and when I tapped on his door he told me to go away.’ She sniffed. ‘The last time we saw him, we were watching the television – I was watching the end of an old black and white film. He stuck his head around the door to the living room and said he was going out for a while, and that he didn’t know when he would be back.’

  ‘The police turned up here at five o’clock in the morning. We’d just had a cup of tea when they knocked on the door and we found out that Jamie had been killed. He hadn’t been carrying any identification on him, and there’d been a delay checking the registration details for the motorbike while he’d been rushed to hospital. By the time they tracked down our names and address, it was too late – he’d already passed away from the extent of his injuries.’

  Michael reached across and pulled a paper tissue from a box, and blew his nose.

  Kay gave them a moment to compose themselves, and then consulted her notes.

  ‘Can I ask – after the inquest, was Jamie’s mobile phone returned to you?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Bridget. ‘I was loath to throw anything away of his, but in the end, we decided we had to move on – he was never coming back, was he?’

  Kay’s heart sank. ‘And the phone?’

  ‘We donated it to one of those recycling charities about three years after he died,’ said Michael. ‘I think we realised we were struggling to carry on with our lives without him, and so we spent a weekend together sorting out his old bedroom here.’

  Bridget managed a small smile. ‘It brought the two of us closer together. I wouldn’t wish anyone to go through what we did, but we had to let him go.’

  Kay rechecked her notes and, satisfied she’d covered everything, raised her gaze to the Ingrams. ‘Michael, Bridget, thank you very much for taking the time to speak with us today. I appreciate it’s difficult to talk about Jamie after all this time.’

  ‘Detective, please be careful when speaking with our daughter. She took Jamie’s death very hard,’ said Michael.

  ‘They were very close, you see,’ said Bridget. ‘Natalie lost all contact with her friends. She retreated into herself for a long time afterwards. She had to have three months of counselling to help with her grief after the accident.’

  ‘I understand. I’ll bear that in mind.’ Kay pushed back her chair, and signalled to Barnes the interview was over.

  Michael led them back to the front door, and stood on the threshold for a moment before turning to Kay.

  ‘Find out who killed my son, Detective. Someone out there knows something, and his killer has been walking around free for ten years.’

  ‘I’ll do everything I can, Mr Ingram.’

  Twelve

  Barnes slowed the car as he entered Yalding village, then braked as they approached a narrow bridge that crossed the River Beult before it joined the larger River Medway.

  He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel while he waited for traffic to travel from the opposite direction, cursing u
nder his breath as a bus passed too close for comfort.

  ‘At least the river didn’t flood this winter,’ said Kay. ‘For a moment over Christmas, I thought all of this would be under water again.’

  As the last vehicle passed his window, Barnes slipped the car into gear and accelerated. ‘I haven’t been here in years. Where does Natalie Ingram live?’

  ‘Her married name is Stockton. She and her husband have a house on Vicarage Lane.’

  She peered across him at the large fifteenth-century church that dominated the boundary of the village, its ragstone and sandstone brickwork contrasting with the dark skies above.

  ‘Down here, on the right.’

  As they progressed along the lane, the houses to each side grew larger and became spaced further apart from their neighbours.

  ‘They must be doing all right for themselves if they can afford to live down this end of the village,’ said Barnes.

  ‘At the time of Jamie’s death, Natalie was working in financial regulation in the City. I’m not sure what she’s doing now, but I expect she was earning some serious money back then.’

  She paused, and gestured out of the window. ‘It’s this one, coming up on the left.’

  Two brick pillars supported a black wrought iron gate, which was open and led through to a circular gravel driveway. In the middle of the circle stood an ornamental fountain and pampas grass. The ostentatiousness of the setting was softened by a selection of children’s outdoor toys that lay strewn across the central grass area.

  Kay turned her attention to the house – with gables overhanging the front windows and a porch that jutted out from the front door, she reckoned it had been built in the 1930s, and then improved upon over the years.

  ‘Nice place,’ said Barnes.

  Kay’s mouth twitched as he stopped the engine and opened his door.

  ‘Nice driveway, too. You won’t get your shoes muddy this time.’

  He stuck two fingers up at her before slamming the door, and she laughed.

  A harried-looking woman peered out of the window to the right-hand side of the porch, and Kay heard footsteps before Barnes had a chance to reach out for the doorbell.

  When the door opened, the woman stood on the threshold, her hair arranged in a messy topknot that threatened to escape.

  She wore a blue denim shirt over black leggings, with colourful socks covering her feet, and extended her hand before Kay managed to open her mouth.

  ‘Natalie Stockton. Mum and Dad said that you’d be on your way over.’

  Kay recognised anticipation in the woman’s voice, and introduced herself and Barnes. ‘May we come in?’

  ‘Of course. Let’s go through to the office. It’s a bit of a mess, I’m afraid. I’ve got two massive commissions that are both due this week.’

  Kay’s eyes travelled over the tasteful decor as she followed Natalie into the room at the front of the house to her right.

  They entered what Natalie had called the office – essentially a living room that had been taken over and put to a different use.

  The walls had been painted a shade of off-white, complemented by artwork and bric-à-brac that she suspected didn’t come from the local department store. The effect could have been pretentious, but was saved by the children’s paintings that had been framed and hung next to the professional offerings. A bespoke desk took up the length of one wall, its surface hidden beneath scraps of material, sketchbooks, and interior decor magazines.

  Natalie waved them to a two-seater sofa under the window. ‘Make yourself comfortable. Did you want anything to drink?’

  ‘No, that’s fine, thanks. And thank you for seeing us without an appointment. We appreciate it.’

  Natalie reached out for the chair next to the desk and spun it around until she faced the two detectives. She sat down with a sigh, and pushed a wayward strand of hair off her forehead.

  ‘That’s okay – I could do with a break from the computer and everything. Sometimes I find hours have gone by and I’ve been hunched up over my work. Then I wonder why I have a bad back.’ She smiled. ‘After I had the kids, I got bored, so I started my own interior design business. It’s like they always say, you’re only stressed when you’re busy, not so much when there’s no work about.’

  Barnes rummaged in his pocket for his notebook and opened it. ‘Do you mind if I ask what sort of clients you work for?’

  ‘Not at all. It’s mostly home styling for magazines. Sometimes I’m asked to style whole houses – rental properties for example, when owners want to ensure they get the best sale price possible by making rooms look perfect, with beautifully made beds, lovely materials, immaculate decor. Basically, nothing like what this place looks like when the kids are around.’

  ‘I’d imagine you’ve got your hands full running a business from home with two young children.’

  ‘Oh God, yeah. Luckily, they go to nursery three days a week now.’

  ‘I understand from the original statement you gave that you worked in financial regulation in the City. Do you miss it?’

  ‘Hell, no.’ She choked out a laugh. ‘Way too stressful, and very chauvinistic. Quitting that job was the best thing I ever did. I don’t even keep in touch with the people I used to work with. I’m much happier doing something creative.’

  ‘What does your husband do?’

  ‘Giles? He still works in the City – he’s an economist with one of the American banks. Thankfully, he’s been quite high up in that role for a few years now, so he only has to commute during the week. It means he can spend time with the kids at the weekends.’

  ‘How long have you been married?’

  Natalie smiled. ‘Six years. We’ve known each other for eight, but it took him a while to pluck up the courage to ask me, I think.’

  Kay grew serious. ‘As I said to your mum and dad, I’m sorry that we have to disturb you this morning, and that some of our questions may upset you, but we’ve been authorised to take another look at Jamie’s motorcycle accident.’

  ‘Can I ask why?’

  ‘I can’t divulge operational issues, but I can say that this investigation stems from an ongoing internal audit process.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘We may have more questions in later days as we learn more about Jamie and the circumstances of his accident, but for the time being could you tell me what you argued about with him, the last time you saw him?’

  Natalie’s shoulders slumped. ‘It was stupid, really. Especially after what happened. I was trying to organise a surprise party for our parents’ wedding anniversary, and attempting to coordinate it so that Jamie could be there. He was only back for a few weeks, and I knew if he returned to Afghanistan, it could be another six months before we saw him again. I wanted to have the party before he went back.’ She emitted a shaking breath, tears threatening. ‘He was being a pain, to be honest. He had no interest in helping me, and said it was better if I sorted it out. He offered to go halves with the finances, of course, but he wasn’t being the most sociable of people. He seemed distracted, almost as if he had more important things to do.’

  ‘Why did you feel you couldn’t talk to your parents about it after he died?’

  ‘I blamed myself partly for his accident – he went out of his way to avoid me after we argued, and I didn’t want to spoil his time with our parents, so I didn’t go to the farmhouse again while he was there.’

  ‘You say that he wasn’t the most outgoing of people at that time. Did you know any of his friends?’

  ‘When we were growing up, yes. After he joined the army, he seemed to grow distant. The times he did visit, he’d meet up with one or two of them for a drink, but it didn’t seem that he had anything in common with them anymore. I think he had a couple of friends in the army – people he worked with – but that’s about it.’

  ‘Did you stay in touch with any of his friends after he died?’

  Natalie shook her head. ‘Mum and Dad probably told you, but I was
in a pretty bad way after Jamie died. I had to seek counselling for little while to help with the grief. They always say twins are closer than normal siblings, don’t they? Maybe that’s what made it so hard.’

  ‘I understand this is difficult for you, and again I’m sorry I have to ask these questions, but can you think of anyone that would have wanted to harm Jamie?’

  ‘Harm him? What do you mean?’

  ‘Please, just answer the question.’

  ‘No, I can’t imagine anyone wanting to harm him. Dad was the one who’s always been convinced there was someone else involved in Jamie’s accident, but Jamie wasn’t the sort of person who got into trouble. Even at school, he kept his nose clean. It was usually me that got the detentions or the extra homework.’

  Kay closed her notebook, and rose from the sofa. ‘I think that will do for now, but here’s my business card. I’ll keep you informed of any developments, but in the meantime if you remember anything that you think might help us, please call.’

  ‘I will, thanks.’

  She showed them out to the hallway, and shook hands.

  ‘Detective Hunter, I realise you have a hard job to do given the time that’s passed since Jamie died, but please know it’s important to me to learn the truth.’

  Kay peered over her shoulder to where Barnes was making his way towards the car, then turned back to Natalie, and offered her a reassuring smile.

  ‘It’s important to me, too.’

  Thirteen

  By the time the team convened for the day’s briefing, darkness had cloaked the county town for over two hours.

  Kay suppressed a yawn as Gavin and Carys filed into Sharp’s office, and resolved to keep the meeting short.

  She waited until Debbie had closed the door before she began her summary of the two interviews she and Barnes had conducted earlier that day.