CHAPTER NINE
“What do you mean you’ve got a dead body for me? Detective Chief Superintendent Charlie Lovell
of the Kent police could hardly believe his ears. “Bloody hell, Fred, what are
you up to now?”
“Do you know Waterfield Road, Whitstable?”
“Of course I know it, my sister-in-law lives there.”
“Well, I’m sitting outside number twenty-two in my car. A few
minutes ago I was in the garden shed and, like I said, I found a body.”
“Oh? And whose body would that be? What the devil are you doing in a dump like
Whitstable anyway?”
“It’s not a dump. It’s a delightful old fishing village,”
protested Winter in all seriousness. “Carol’s with me. Her son and his partner
run The Green Man in Herne Bay as you well know…”
“That doesn’t answer
my question. Oh, never mind, you can tell me later. I’ll send Pritchard and a
team right over.”
Winter grimaced. He’d had dealings with DS Pritchard in the
past. “Can’t you come yourself?”
“You’re joking. I’m up to my eyes here. Besides, I’m giving a
press conference in about ten minutes. I can rely on you to brief Pritchard on
whatever it is you’re sniffing around these days?”
“Absolutely,” said Winter and tossed Carol a knowing wink
while holding the mobile phone some distance from his ear. Both could hear
Lovell threatening tar and feathers at the very least if he ever discovered at
some later date that his old sparring partner had been holding out on him.
“Oh, and give Carol my regards,” Lovell added as an
afterthought, “It’s high time she made an honest man of you if you ask me.”
“I’m a cop, Charlie, as honest as the day is long.” Winter chuckled softly down the line.
“Huh” Lovell barked down the line. “There are sunny days and
rainy days. In my experience, Fred, the sun doesn’t get to put its damn hat on
until the last minute whenever you’re around.”
“I love you too, Charlie,” said Winter, laughing aloud, “See
you soon, yeah?”
“Too damn right you will. Oh, and Fred…”
“Yes Charlie?”
“Take care, okay?” But he hung up before Winter could reply.
“Pritchard’s on his way,” Winter groaned and looked to Carol
for sympathy but found none. On the contrary, her face was flushed with a
mixture of anger and concern.
“Did you really find a dead body?” Winter nodded, feeling
slightly nauseous as he recalled the hand sticking out from the pile of sacks
as if its owner were making a last ditch effort to escape. He was, of course
being overly fanciful or so he kept telling himself. The chances of the dead
man having been dumped there alive were…remote, surely?
“Whose?” Carol was demanding. “Was it Max Cutler? You should
never have gone in there on your own. Anything might have happened.”
“I couldn’t see his face.” Winter sighed with growing
exasperation as the prospect of giving Mike Pritchard a statement loomed ever
closer. They had met on another case, one that has involved Carol’s son, Liam
as it happened. Winter wasn’t looking forward to the reunion. “As far as
Pritchard is concerned you know nothing, okay?” he warned Carol. “You’re just
cadging a lift to Herne Bay to see Liam.
Oh, and you can mention the baby, too, if you like. It will seem all the
more plausible.”
“And just how much do you propose to tell him?”
“Naturally, as little as possible, and don’t look at me like
that either. What do I know Carol? What do I actually know for sure? I feel like a headless chicken running around the
farmyard wondering what’s missing.”
“If the cap fits,” she retorted.
Both lapsed into a thoughtful silence. Winter fretted about
his reaction to finding the body. He had, after all, only assumed the hand was
attached to a body. He had panicked. Am I
losing my grip, for heaven’s sake? He sincerely hoped not or what chance of
getting to the bottom of all this. All
this…what? he kept asking himself. It was all such a muddle. Where was Nina
Fox and why had she called on Carol in the middle of the night only to
disappear without a word? Who was sending her threatening notes and had Max
Cutler been privy to the identity of that person, especially given that the
last one was written in Cutler’s own blood?
Exactly what scenario had led to his murder? Stop
speculating, Fred, and stop making assumptions. He was assuming, of course,
that it was Cutler’s body he had stumbled upon in the shed. A lifetime’s
experience warned Winter not to make any such assumption. Even so, basic
instinct told him that it was, in all probability, Cutler’s body. Absently, he
wondered how the mother would react. A surge of sympathy for the awful woman
swept over him, but he could not completely obliterate from his mind’s eye the
lasting image of a grotesque gargoyle engulfed in cushions.
Involuntarily, he chuckled before giving some consideration
to Pip Sparrow and why that young lady appeared to have all the makings of a
serial liar. Certainly, she had lied about returning to the house and finding
Nina there the previous evening or Colin Fox would have seen them. He was sure,
too, that Pip knew more about Max Cutler and his sudden disappearance than she
was letting on. He was also ninety-nine per cent sure that she also knew why
Cutler and Nina Fox had argued. There had to be more to that argument than Nina
was prepared to confide. So how and
where, exactly, does little Pip fit into all this? I’m damned if I have the faintest idea.
Alternatively,
had Colin Fox been lying? Somehow, Winter
doubted it. At the same time, he had the sense that Fox had not been as
forthcoming as he might have been about his reasons for being back in the
country. He made a mental note to quiz
Liam Brady about his association with Cutler and Ray Bannister during their
time at university in the 1990s. He needed to talk to Pip again, too, and more
importantly, to Nina herself as soon as possible.
Winter pursed his lips and proceeded to debate with his
conscience about how much he should pass on to Detective Sergeant
Pritchard. Not a lot, if anything, he decided. After all, what did he have to
go on besides a muddle of suspicion and native intuition amounting to precious
little more than sheer innuendo? At the same time, he was fully aware that, in
a murder enquiry, every tiny piece of information gleaned counted towards
making that all-important breakthrough. I’ll tell him as much as I think he needs to
know, he coolly informed a wary alter ego, repeating word for word what he
had already told Carol.
Carol, for her part, was thinking less about being party to
the discovery of a murder than whether or not she could play the part of a
thrilled grandma-to-be sufficiently well to convince Liam and Sadie. I should be thrilled, she kept
telling herself, so why aren’t I? Nor had she quite believed the reasons she’d
given Freddy Winter. She had never been a possessive mother. Besides, Sadie was
the best thing that could have happened to Liam. She was grateful to the woman
for that. As for the difference in their
ages, what the hell does it matter? Nor,
she was certain, was her state of mind down to unsettled hormones. She sighed. Am I really so pathetic that I can’t stand
being reminded of growing older? The
very idea made her cringe. Hadn’t she always been a realist, faced up to
things, dealt with them rather than push them under the proverbial carpet? So why,
oh, why, do I have a problem with Sadie’s pregnancy? Come on
girl, pull yourself together and be happy for them, common sense told her
over and over without managing to sound in the least convincing.
“Well, hello again. Long time, no see, eh?” Pritchard’s head
at the car window caught both of them unawares.
Mike Pritchard proved to be far more reasonable than Winter
could have imagined. He saw no problem with their driving to Herne Bay
immediately and even expressed concern that Carol looked a shade pale. “This
must have come as a terrible shock to you, Mrs Brady.” Carol nodded. “Splendid
news about the baby, you must be over the moon.” Yet again, it was all Carol
could do to manage a nod, now accompanied by a dazzling smile into which she
put considerable effort. Pritchard, though, had already turned to Winter again.
“I’ll pop over and see you in a while if you don’t mind? You’ll appreciate that
I need to supervise things here. We can have a long chat later and you can tell
me what inspired you to break into someone’s house and discover a body.”
Winter ignored the sarcasm. “I look forward to that,” he
said, gritting his teeth, “and I appreciate your not detaining us any longer.
As you can see, it’s all been a bit too much for poor Carol. By the way, she
had no idea why I wanted to visit sunny Whitstable, I can assure you. As it is,
I’m in the dog house.”
“You can say that again,” Carol exclaimed with such feeling
that Pritchard looked first startled, and then faintly suspicious while even
Winter was left feeling more than slightly shaken.
“Get off now, the pair of you, and I’ll see you both again
soon.”
“Thanks Mike.” Winter was pleased to see the young detective wince
at the use of his first name.
“My pleasure, Fred,” returned Pritchard.
Winter decided that the expression on the young sergeant’s
face resembled a grimace more than a grin, displaying a set of such perfectly
white teeth that he had to swallow hard on a wicked impulse to ask if they were
Pritchard’s own.
“That didn’t go so badly,” Carol felt compelled to comment as
they drove away. “I was expecting us to be frogmarched to the nick for
interrogation.”
“Don’t be such a drama queen,” Winter told her with a grin,
“and don’t count any chickens either. Pritchard will hound us until he gets his
man… or woman,” he added for no reason other than a sense of fair play. “After
all, who’s to say it wasn’t Pip or Nina who killed our friend Max?”
“Now you’re being plain ridiculous,” Carol snorted, produced
a lipstick from her handbag and set about applying it. “If Nina’s a murderer
then I’m Harry Potter. As for Pip, don’t you think that poor girl has endured
enough already without you casting aspersions on her character?” she snapped,
returning the glossy lipstick to a stylish handbag.
“You look fantastic,” Winter told her. “It beats me why women
always want to make themselves up to the nines when there isn’t the slightest
need for it.”
“Reason not the need,” replied Carol cryptically, the
unspoken challenge left hanging in the air. But if Winter had recognized the
quotation from Shakespeare or its aptness, he wasn’t letting on. In the
meantime, it cheered Carol up no end to
keep him guessing, as he’d known it would. He knew the quote of course. Ever
since Liam Brady had studied Shakespeare as part of his university course, his
mother had made a point of collecting numerous quotable quotes from the Bard,
invariably taken from a Dictionary of Quotations that had pride of place in her
bookcase. One day, he mused wryly, he’d make Carol sit down and actually read some Shakespeare.
Their arrival at The Green Man was chaotic. There were hugs
and kisses all round while Stanley, joined in with an incessant barking that
began to drive everyone mad. At the same time, the little dog wagged its tail
furiously and looked so bright eyed and happy to be there that no one, least of
all Winter, had the heart to keep saying “Shut up!” too forcefully. But Stanley
had the measure of things. Once excited greetings were over and everyone began
traipsing through a busy main bar into a small but comfy sitting room, the dog
took its cue and quietened considerably; so much so that Sadie reconsidered her
intention to banish it to the kitchen with a bowl of water and some dog
biscuits she had purchased for the occasion.
“He’s lovely!” Sadie cried, Stanley recognizing a worthy ally
promptly jumped on her lap.
“Down, Stanley, down!” Winter commanded.
“It’s alright,” Sadie laughed, “He can stay where he is, at
least until I get around to fixing us some grub.”
“I’ll help you with that,” Carol quickly volunteered. Sadie
nodded, smiled and said nothing.
“You look blooming, absolutely blooming,” Winter observed
with undisguised affection and admiration for the woman sitting opposite him.
“I feel it,” said Sadie, acknowledging the compliment with a
broad grin. She was wondering why Carol seemed so…distant somehow…although
distant wasn’t the word she wanted but no other sprung to mind, dismissing a
feeling of unease as imagination once Liam re-entered the room bearing a tray
of drinks.
“Please raise your glasses everyone,” declared Liam, looking
flushed and happier that Winter had ever seen him, “for a toast to…forthcoming
events.”
“Events…?” Carol pounced on the plural.
“We thought we’d do the right thing by the baby and get
married,” said Sadie quietly.
“That’s fantastic!” Winter was jubilant, “Congratulations to
both of you.” He went to Sadie and kissed her on the cheek, before pumping
Liam’s hand.
It struck Carol that Freddy was more animated than she had
seen him in ages. “Yes, wonderful news,” she found herself saying and went
through the motions with another round of kisses and hugs. Stanley, on this
occasion, remained oddly subdued, but submitted contentedly enough to Sadie’s
constant stroking and cuddling as she sipped at a glass of soda and lime.
“To forthcoming events…!” Liam repeated and raised his glass
again.
“And may everyone live happy ever after,” Winter added, with
an enthusiastic show of sentiment that surprised even himself.
“Happy ever after!” everyone echoed, the toast well and truly
drunk as they all but drained their glasses.
Sadie spilled some of
her drink on Stanley’s nose. The little
dog put out his tongue and tried to lick it up. Everyone roared. A knocking at the door went unheard and a
young man with curly hair put his head around it briefly. “Sorry to disturb
you, folks, but there’s a DS Pritchard at the bar asking for a Fred Winter.”
“I’ll be right there,” said Winter, uncomfortably aware that
neither he nor Carol had yet mentioned events in Whitstable to Liam and Sadie.
“Give Pritchard whatever he’s drinking and I’ll pay for it. Just give me a
jiffy, okay?”
The head nodded and vanished. No sooner had the door clicked
shut than Liam was demanding, “Okay, you two, what’s going on?”
“We called in on friends in Whitstable en route,” replied
Winter, only too well aware that he was making a poor show of disingenuousness.
Liam was neither fooled nor distracted. “And what did you find
that has made Mike Pritchard so anxious to see you?”
“Who said he was anxious?” murmured Carol more irritably than
she intended.
“You and Pritchard have never exactly hit it off,” Liam Brady
pointed out, “so it must be something pretty big if he’s prepared to go out of
his way to turn up here practically the very minute you arrive. Am I right or
am I right?” He did not take his eyes off Winter’s implacable expression.
“If you must know, we found a dead body,” said Carol.
Sadie visibly paled, “A body? Oh, my God! Whose body, for
goodness sake?”
“We’re not sure, but we think…” Winter began only to be
interrupted by Liam who had gone to stand beside his partner.
“Spare us the details, Fred. I’ll not have Sadie upset.”
“You’re right, of course.” Winter was genuinely apologetic.
“I was forgetting…”
“I’m pregnant, not ill, and I’m not about to fall apart over
the slightest thing.” It was Sadie’s
turn to sound irritable.
“But a dead body…” protested Liam.
“Has to be the juiciest gossip I’ve heard in ages,” Sadie
interrupted with a wicked gleam in wide eyes that had always struck Winter as
one of her most attractive features.
“I’d better not keep Pritchard waiting,” Winter mumbled,
tossing Carol a conspiratorial wink that plainly warned her not to give too
much away, and left the room. Liam’s expression disturbed him, suggesting, as
it had, far more than protectiveness towards Sadie and his mother. His keen eye
had interrupted a fleeting interchange of glances between mother and son that
he understood only too well. Both were recalling another grim set of
circumstances in which all three had become embroiled only a few years ago,
Sadie too. Liam Brady was scared, not only because Winter’s presence posed a
threat, but also because he was still fighting demons of his own.
The burly detective frowned. He could relate to that. The
trouble with demons, he reflected grimly, was their stubborn refusal to let go,
no matter what. Even so, it was Sadie Chapman’s reassuring smile that he kept
in his mind’s eye as he joined DS Pritchard at the bar.
Pritchard did not waste time with small talk. “Ah, there you
are, and about time too. Come on, my car’s parked outside.”
“We’re going somewhere?”
“It’s a lovely evening. I thought we could ride around the
countryside. I’ll drive while you tell me what the hell you think you’re
playing at.”
“Playing at?”
“You’re retired, right? That means you report any suspicions
to the police and don’t follow your own damn nose any more. If you had cause to
think something was wrong at that house, you should have called us right
away. As it is, I could have you
arrested for breaking and entering.”
“But you won’t, will you?” Winter grinned amiably. Pritchard
merely frowned and drove off.
“Tell me Fred, why did you think the body was your friend Cutler?”
“His mother hasn’t seen him for a while. That’s why I called
in. The poor woman’s worried sick.”
“She’ll be relieved to know he isn’t dead then,” said
Pritchard evenly, “Not as far as we know anyhow.”
“It wasn’t Cutler?” Winter could barely contain his surprise.
“No.”
“You’re sure of that, already? That was fast work, even for
the electronic age.”
“It wasn’t difficult.
For a start, the corpse is female.”
“What?” Winter started violently in his seat belt.”
“I’d have thought someone like yourself would know better
than to make assumptions like that. Frankly, I’m amazed you didn’t take a
closer look.” Pritchard couldn’t resist glancing smugly at his passenger before
turning into a dirt track and applying the brake.
“And disturb a murder scene?” Winter pursed his lips. “Now,
give me some credit, Mike.”
Even so, his stomach was churning over and making noises he was sure the
younger man must be able to hear. Pritchard
is right of course. I should have known better.
God knows, it’s bad enough that I came over queasy, but not even to
realize it was a women’s hand...I must be getting old. “So, any idea who
she might be?” he asked, suspecting the sergeant would take great delight in
telling him, and was not mistaken.
“Oh yes, we know who she is alright. I recognized her
immediately.”
Winter’s heart sank.
To be continued on Monday
