The Echo of Crows, page 10
‘No, it…’
Oh God. He hadn’t thought how important Autumn might be to Maya and her reaction to having her would-be presenter involved with a murder inquiry.
Maya said, ‘If this is something you can’t tell me…’
‘Well, I… No, it isn’t. But it’s all a bit up in the air…’
‘I wondered if it was something that you didn’t know how to tell her, so you thought you’d put it to me first. I’m sorry if I’ve…’
‘Maya, look…’ He wished he hadn’t come. ‘I’ll have to talk to my DI before I say too much, even to you. If that’s OK…’
*
Maya’s new flat was behind Ryeland Street, half a mile or so from the centre of Hereford. She was the only producer of TV documentaries Vaynor had ever encountered in the city. Now, he was finally ready to admit that, ever since their first meeting, she’d been close to the surface of his thoughts. Not just because of a shared interest in William Wordsworth and the inspiration he got in the Wye Valley; there was more to her than that. More to them? Maybe not the time to speculate. The first couple of times he’d rung her there’d been no answer, not even a machine. He’d had to phone the production company in Bristol to find she’d left the slightly spooky cottage she’d been renting at Goodrich. This flat was more convenient, within walking distance of Gaol Street.
‘You prefer it here?’
She’d smiled at him when he’d arrived at her door. Smiled a bit warily, he’d thought for an uneasy moment.
‘I find this place… fairly neutral,’ Maya said. ‘When I’m working, I’m not looking for an invasive atmosphere. Which there seemed to be at Goodrich.’
‘That did come over as quite a… powerful place,’ he said.
It was there, apparently, that she’d found out that Wordsworth was the basis of Vaynor’s Oxford doctorate and had wanted him on her programme about the poet’s Herefordshire period. Now her programme about the background of Harold Godwinson, more or less finished if not yet screened, was giving him another chance to know her better.
‘And here’s another powerful place,’ Maya said.
Nodding at the laptop’s screen. She’d clicked to a group picture: Autumn Wise with a bunch of people gathering under a spreading horse-chestnut tree with umbrellas and rainwear against a visible downpour.
‘You can see she’s completely absorbed by her narrative,’ Maya said.
Autumn was talking to six tourists on that dismal, wet morning, telling them some of the history of the place associated with her ancestors while seemingly, apart from her familiar crow-like hood, unaware of the weather.
‘And yet she’s somehow not there,’ Maya said. ‘At least, not only there, but partly in the realm of a thousand years ago.’
Vaynor raised an eyebrow. Were there deeper aspects of Autumn Wise to be discussed? But if he felt excitement in his gut, it was about seeing Maya rather than Autumn.
‘Hold on,’ Maya said. ‘I took another picture from further back, to find the exact location.’
A distant view with rooftops in the foreground, but Maya’s camera was not interested in the village of Ewyas Harold. The hill behind it, which appeared almost volcanic, had many trees and tree stumps and was clearly a castle mound.
‘I took this with a telephoto lens from across the village. The castle was there before any of it. We don’t know how important it was to King Harold, but… Autumn believes she does. And the same goes for Longtown Castle.’
‘Um… what makes you think that?’
Maya said, ‘Much of what I’m saying I don’t actually know.’
‘But you do want her to be credible?’
Maya switched off the laptop.
‘Let me get this right,’ Vaynor persisted. ‘You signed this young woman to present a TV programme for you… someone who’s never done television before…’
‘I was advised to go and listen to her telling tourists in the Golden Valley about local history as an occasional element of her part-time job with a local bookshop.’
Vaynor briefly thought about the TV presenters he’d encountered at Oxford, most of them still at Oxford, lecturing; all of them highly qualified and in serious competition for those occasional presentation roles. And none of them, as he recalled, also in a day job in a shop.
Or somehow mixed up in murder inquiries.
‘One day, we went to have tea with her mother,’ Maya said. ‘Her late mother, that is, Anna Godwinson.’ She closed the laptop. ‘No relation to Harold Godwinson… as far, that is, as anyone was able to prove.’
19
A responsibility
THE SILENCE WAS long enough for Vaynor to stand up, push his chair back and walk slowly to the window where he saw amber lights coming on in the semi-urban dusk.
He said, ‘Did she try to prove a connection with King Harold?’
He didn’t see how anyone could prove anything from nigh on a thousand years ago.
‘No,’ Maya said.
‘So Godwinson was her maiden name?’ Vaynor said. ‘Or was it, perhaps, assumed?’
‘I don’t think Anna would have invented a connection, but if one might have existed she’d feel obliged – not least because of Autumn’s fascination with local history – to find out if it was genuine.’
‘Do you think it is?’
Maya smiled uncertainly.
‘I don’t know, David. Autumn once told me her mother didn’t want to lose that name and neither did her husband, George Wise. Godwinson became their secret – the royal name.’
‘Must be dozens of Godwinsons still around,’ Vaynor said.
‘The present British royal family has a historical link with the last Anglo-Saxon King of England,’ Maya said, ‘which meant a lot to Anna. It was one reason her parents moved to Herefordshire over thirty years ago. Even though there was no proof they were from the same family, Anna thought it was some kind of destiny.’
‘But Autumn didn’t change her name to Godwinson?’
‘No, she didn’t want to look illegitimate. But she’d grown up with stories of Harold. From being a little girl, she was told this king was her possible ancestor. She quietly researched the local links throughout her school years – encouraged by her parents, of course. And began to feel a powerful connection with Harold. Spent hours around the places he may have known. Until she began – she says – to see him in her dreams.’
‘Uh-oh…’
‘Don’t knock it, David. I’m not. She’s not a fantasist. And when we reveal all these links in the TV programme, it’ll show exactly why I’m having it presented by a young woman who left university without a degree. If you’d actually seen Autumn presenting,’ Maya said, ‘you’ll realize how good she looks in front of the camera.’
‘No question about that.’
Maya sat down opposite Vaynor, reached to the computer and found the group picture.
‘Here, you can see she’s back in the eleventh century, conveying what it was like then, in a place that doesn’t seem to have changed in any meaningful way. And… she was somehow seeing it through his eyes.’
Something stirred inside Vaynor.
‘How sure are you?’
‘Of what?’
He didn’t spell it out. Obviously she couldn’t remotely accept this wild idea of Autumn’s about her family’s roots.
But she faced him.
‘I couldn’t be more sure. She doesn’t insist it’s true but she says her mother was always convinced, and what happened to her mother, I suppose, lends it… a kind of protective… sanctity, if that’s the word.
‘I did a few test-shoots with her. She was perfect. Could one day be a nationally famous presenter. She’s still young… has plenty of time to develop, but I know some TV people, better connected than I am, who would use her if they knew how convincing she can be and how good she looks onscreen.’
Although Maya was only a few years older than Autumn, she smiled affectionately, like an aunt talking about a favourite niece.
Vaynor sat back unhappily, Autumn moving in his memory, her foot prodding a shotgun.
Maya said, ‘I’ve seen high-profile presenters trying to reach her level of freshness and not succeeding, because they’re too sophisticated. She agreed to do my Harold programme, because I’m convinced she believes that something remaining of him wanted to be seen as he really was.’
‘Something of Harold?’
‘She feels, having kind of known him all her life, that he somehow talks to her. I shouldn’t say this, but she obviously thinks that something of him is still around.’
He waited a few seconds, only half-aware of what he was about to ask but knowing that he had to. He was thankful that nobody else was here.
‘You’re saying she believes his… essence… is still around here… in the atmosphere?’
‘Among many other people’s,’ Maya said. ‘Their memories… essences, as you say. It seems to be because of the proximity of the Black Mountains. She finds this an “active” area. If you now know what I’m trying not to say.’
He thought he did know and that it was all to do with the questions he was not framing. There weren’t many people with whom you could share ideas like this. If Maya didn’t find it embarrassing, why should he?
Vaynor came slowly to his feet. He didn’t want to go, but he had to.
Maya said, ‘Autumn certainly believes she’s developed a connection with this peculiar area and some of its former inhabitants, as well as its wildlife. A non-physical connection, you’d have to say, although I suspect neither of us feels entirely comfortable with that, especially the crows bit. Has coming here been any help to you at all, for whatever you’re working on?’
No, me being here… that’s just, dear God, mostly an excuse to see you again.
He didn’t say that; he said nothing. His job and his private life risked becoming hopelessly confused.
‘I think I’d better go,’ he said finally. ‘Leave it there.’
Where? He’d come to find out what Maya had thought of Autumn. Now he knew and it didn’t help him much.
‘You’ve helped me understand her better. Just another couple of things… was she keen to do this documentary?’ he asked at the door. ‘Or did you have to persuade her?’
Maya said quietly, ‘You’re not quite getting this, are you? She feels obliged to do the programme if only for her late mother who came here in search of her family’s destiny.’
‘Yes, I do sort of get that but—’
‘David…’ Looking hard at him over clasped hands. ‘She’s lonely, the only one left in her immediate family, save for elderly grandparents, her dad’s parents, and she feels she’s inherited a responsibility. Maybe she’s in the right place for now. She could always go back to university.’
‘She ever mention Eddy Davies?’ Vaynor said as airily as he could.
Maya looked puzzled for several seconds, then alarmed. ‘You mean the man in the news; the dead man? My god, is he the one who’d taken her under his wing? That’s why you’re here? She did mention an Eddy.’
‘Just trying to get an overall picture,’ said Vaynor, trying to retain professionalism. ‘Please keep this to yourself. Autumn’s being cared for and she might be able to help enquiries once she’s, er… feeling better. Can’t say more just now. Please trust me. We’re looking after her and I’ll let you know soonest when you can see her.’
‘Please, please do that,’ Maya said, looking worried. ‘I haven’t had time to contact her lately but I want to. She needs friends.’
And I think I need you, Vaynor thought.
20
Scared
KAREN DOWELL STOPPED near the top of the stairs to the CID room and Bliss’s office. She was shaking her head. Bliss stopped behind her.
‘Not a word?’
‘Several words.’ Karen backed up to stand on the top step. ‘But none of them the ones we were hoping for, I’m afraid. Which is consistent with getting a dose of Rohypnol. No explanation of how it happened, or how she came to have the gun.’
‘You’ve read the reports then.’
‘Yes. I’ve read everything we’ve had so far. No evidence of anybody else handling either gun. Just the cartridges still being checked.’
‘We need her side of the story, either side of the memory lapse, and I want to know why she’s frightened.’
‘Could be scared she might have done it?’ Karen suggested crisply. ‘Or frightened because she isn’t sure she didn’t? She could have killed him and staged the scene, like with help, and taken the drug herself. That wouldn’t be far-fetched if she stood to benefit in some way we don’t know about… or simply set up. I was suspicious about her at first but I’m coming round to thinking she’s probably just an eccentric who’s had a run of bad luck. Really bad luck.’
‘All right…’ At the top of the stairs, Bliss paced a tight circle. ‘What I think is we need to find her a place she’ll be comfortable in and, hopefully, open up. Specially about what she’s scared of. Also we need her safe from whoever drugged her.’
‘Like where?’ Karen said.
‘Well, going home wouldn’t be good. She wanted to leave that place and we wouldn’t like the media being on her doorstep, God forbid. Leave it with me.’
‘So…’ Karen backed away from him, ‘where exactly are you planning to go with enquiries, boss?’
‘Well,’ Bliss said, scratching his head, ‘it’s got to be somebody local. Need to know more about Eddy, where he was spending his money and who might have had a grudge. He can’t have been Mr Popular with everyone, otherwise he’d still be alive.
‘You carry on with background checks on the locals and get a look at Eddy’s bank statements and the will, if he made one. Or, maybe I’ll give Len a ring about the will.’
Karen nodded. ‘One I’ve flagged so far is Lynda Steen. She was very pally with Eddy for years. Think they were at school together. Then she went travelling and came back around summer last year. That’s when they got together romantically, according to social media. That’s as far as I’ve got.’
‘Interesting,’ Bliss said. ‘Did Autumn put her out of the picture, I wonder. Keep on it. And check Eddy’s mobile, if he had one. Darth might be back soon to give you a hand. I’ll cobble a press statement together, just asking for anyone with information to come forward. That should satisfy them for a few hours. And I’ll get two of the squad to help trawl social media. That’s always a goldmine. Or a minefield.’
Karen glanced out of the landing window. ‘Oh, David’s car. He’s back.’
*
Bliss made two cups of coffee and carried them to his office door as Vaynor walked into CID.
‘You look like you need this, Darth. In here.’
Vaynor closed the door and took a grateful gulp as he sat down.
Bliss let him drink half the mug before saying, ‘Right, let’s hear it.’
Vaynor grabbed his notebook. ‘Eddy didn’t have a smartphone. Guess he didn’t have much use for one up there with the signal being patchy. His laptop is a godsend, though, and, conveniently for us, he kept all his passwords in its case.’
Bliss grinned. ‘Thank God not everybody’s security obsessed, even though they should be.’
‘He wasn’t on social media or anything and didn’t email much but he did do online banking. No banks anywhere near there so it would have been an essential thing for him to sign into. Anyway, the really interesting stuff was the regular transfers of £5000 monthly to an unknown private account, which started last January.’
Vaynor flipped to another page in his notebook.
‘I should get feedback a bit later on who the account holder is. I rang Len and he was totally unaware. But he did say he’d go and look for Eddy’s will and let us know when he found it. Like he said, farmers make wills as early as they can these days to avoid inheritance tax and other certain taxes, even if they presume they’ve got many years ahead of them.’
‘Makes sense. Let me know as soon as you get that account owner. It adds up to £60,000 a year going to somebody.’
‘That was the straightforward bit,’ said Vaynor.
Bliss drained his mug and tried to digest Darth’s surreal summary of his visit to Maya Madden.
‘I’ve gorra make you tell me again, Darth. You’re saying that Autumn Wise genuinely thinks the late – the very late – King Harold was some kind of ancestor of hers? And she talks to crows.’
Bliss was beginning to wish that Vaynor had studied psychology instead of English Lit. However, Vaynor was in his suit and tie, dressed for getting himself believed, so Bliss, in his baseball top, felt he owed him at least half an ear.
‘OK, boss…’ Vaynor said, ‘…I don’t know for sure how much of this she comes close to accepting as a basis for consideration. But her dead mother may have entirely believed it and Autumn feels she owes it to her mother’s memory not to completely rubbish it. Her parents only came to live out here because of her mother’s feeling about a possible ancestral link with the Godwinsons.’
Bliss started a sigh, but stopped it. There was a serious side to this. ‘And then Mrs Anna Wise went out with her husband and got killed,’ he said. ‘And then Eddy got killed. Doesn’t sound like a lucky place for Autumn, except that it could have launched a career in telly. And you wouldn’t think she’d have jeopardized that by gerrin’ mixed up in murder.’
‘Quite,’ Vaynor said. ‘My source thinks she’s a natural on TV and the offers will flood in once the documentary is screened.’
‘So what else have we got?’
‘I…’ Vaynor took a breath. ‘I’ve been looking at the regular tourists. And there are regulars – people from different parts of Britain who keep coming back to this village. In fact, some of the newer residents originally came here as holidaymakers, like Oliver Highgrove from Brighton.’
‘The property dealer,’ Bliss recalled.
Vaynor added he employed Autumn Wise part time in his shop, selling books and general tourist kit and giving weekend talks to groups about her pet subject. They all knew Autumn.
