No Going Back (The Kent Fisher Murder Mysteries Book 7), page 21
“I wasn’t expecting you till lunchtime, lover. There’s been a couple of calls, details on your desk. Councillor Rathbone wants a word. I hope you haven’t been doing anything naughty.”
The minute I left Sunshine View Caravan Park, Pippa Castle will have rung her cousin to complain about me.
“What about you, Kelly? Have you been doing anything naughty while I’ve been out on district?”
She averts her eyes for a moment before regaining her composure. She looks straight into my eyes and runs her tongue over her lips. “Do you have anything in mind, lover?”
“We’d need to be careful,” I say, turning to the windowsill. “You never know who’s watching these days.”
I lift the tabard to remove the camera before holding it up to the light where she can see it.
“What’s that?” she asks. The nervous tremor in her voice suggests she has a good idea what it is.
“The truth.” I slip the camera into my pocket and walk towards the door. “Have you heard the saying, the camera never lies? Well, this hi resolution camera will show me whether you have been naughty this morning.”
The colour seems to drain from her face. For once she has no cheeky response. I reach the stairwell before she calls after me. “Wait. Let me explain.”
I push through the door and walk down the stairs.
She chases after me. “I had no choice.”
I stop on the half landing and turn to face her. “We always have a choice.”
“You’ve never had to turn tricks in a lap dancing club to feed a heroin habit.” She slumps back against the wall, her breathing heavy. “Greg rescued me. He helped me kick the habit. He gave me back my self-respect, my life.”
“And what did you give him in return?”
“Oh, it’s much more than sex, Kent, but you wouldn’t understand, the way you treat women.”
I ignore the slur, the venom in her voice. “Harry found out about you and Rathbone, didn’t he? That’s why he came to the party. What did he want?”
“What you all want.” She peels herself off the wall, treating me to her sultry eyes and seductive smile. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. I know you’ve wondered what it would be like, undressing me, exploring me. Well, you don’t have to fantasise anymore. I know what you like, lover. Gemma told me.”
She smiles, knowing she’s hit the target. “You’d be surprised what us girls talk about when we’ve had a few glasses of wine. I’m sure you don’t want everyone knowing what you and Gemma got up to.”
I’ve no idea whether she’s bluffing or serious, but if she’s threatening me, there must be something she doesn’t want me to see on the video.
“Go to hell, Kelly.”
I trot down the stairs to the ground floor, half expecting her to make more threats. I’m about to push open the door, when she calls out once more.
“I know where to find Miranda Tate.”
I should walk out of the door, but I don’t. I want to know how she knows I’m looking for Miranda Tate. When she stops on the stairs, a couple of steps above me, I stare straight into her eyes.
“Why would I be interested in Miranda Tate?”
“She killed your friend, Harry Lawson.”
That wasn’t the answer I expected. “I’m listening.”
She holds out her hand. “Camera first.”
I shake my head. “Convince me.”
“Miranda worked with me in the lap dancing club. We shared a flat and got to know each other quite well, shared all our secrets. When Greg offered us a way out, she didn’t want to know. She enjoyed the attention and the sex. I don’t know what happened to her until she contacted me to say she was marrying this guy called Harry, a hot shot reporter in London.”
Kelly pauses, an angry scowl on her face. “He found out about her past while he was investigating Greg. The bastard dumped her and cancelled the wedding without telling her. He sent an email to all the people invited, telling them what she’d done. I’m not surprised she killed him.”
“I am,” I say, certain Sarah would have told me about any malicious emails sent by Harry. “I’ll be in touch once I’ve watched the video, Kelly. Or should I call you Kira?”
I push open the door and stride across the car park, hoping I’m right about Sarah.
Fifty-Four
Sarah’s confirmed she didn’t receive any malicious emails from Harry about Miranda. It doesn’t mean he didn’t send any, just not to her. If Kelly’s right and Miranda killed Harry, I can always trade the video for her location.
Armed with a cheese and onion baguette from the café and a glass of cold milk, I settle down in my study to watch the video footage. When I started to investigate, I was hoping Kelly was the victim, manipulated by Rathbone. Her performance on the stairs revealed her to be not only a willing accomplice, but maybe the instigator.
When she said, ‘Oh, it’s much more than sex, Kent,’ she was talking in the present tense.
She and Rathbone are lovers, even though he’s engaged to her sister.
The video footage confirms it. I’ve had to watch and fast forward through three hours of Kelly on the phone, Kelly applying lipstick, Kelly walking over to the window to watch the world and Kelly checking her phone every few minutes. It’s not till twenty past ten that the footage becomes interesting. Rathbone saunters into the office, a huge grin on his face. He locks the door and strolls over to Kelly, who’s sitting at her computer. Standing behind her, he nuzzles her neck while his hands cup her breasts.
When he unbuttons her blouse, I stop the video.
No wonder Kelly wanted to recover the footage.
I slip Columbo some cheese. “Will Rathbone offer me my department back or slip ketamine into my Becks Blue?”
A few minutes later, Rathbone drives into the car park, tyres squealing. He’s out of the car and striding towards my flat like a man on a mission. A few moments later, he hammers on the front door. Columbo barks and races down the stairs. When I open the door, he jumps forward, baring his teeth. Rathbone retreats a few steps, giving me time to haul Columbo back inside and close the door.
Rathbone looks harassed, angry and tired. His greasy black hair falls across his forehead as he stares at me. His voice is strained as he struggles to keep control. “What are you going to do?”
Having only just watched the footage, I haven’t considered what I plan to do. “What are you going to do?” I ask.
“Whatever it takes.”
“Whatever it takes to keep your job as Leader of the Council?”
“I’ll reinstate Environmental Health as a separate department. You’ll be in charge and I’ll make sure you get the staff and support you need.”
“And I give you the video footage?”
He nods.
I shake my head. “You don’t get it, do you? For years, you’ve been spying on me and my colleagues, undermining the work we do. Now I’ve been spying on you. How do you think Katya will react when she finds out you’re screwing her sister?”
“Katya doesn’t mind. She has her own lovers.”
For a moment, I’m lost. “How do you think Frank and your fellow councillors will react when they discover you’ve been screwing Kelly in my office? Or the newspapers, come to that.”
His face pales. His shoulders sink. The fight seems to leak out of him like air from a balloon. “There’s no need to twist the knife.”
“Resign today and I won’t. Reinstate Environmental Health by all means, but without me. And in case you ever think of doing anything stupid, I’m keeping the video footage. Now go and resign with your dignity and reputation intact. If Frank rings me to confirm it by the end of the afternoon, I’ll keep your secrets.”
I turn and go back into my flat, scooping up Columbo before he races out to bite Rathbone. Upstairs, I watch him drive away, wondering if it’s the last I’ll see or hear of him. An hour later, Chief Executive Frank Dean rings. His tone is sombre.
“Gregory Rathbone’s resigned as Leader of the Council.”
“Wow,” I say, feigning surprise. “Did he say why?”
“Personal reasons. I don’t understand it, Kent. At ten o’clock this morning, I got a call to say we’d secured some significant government funding for a project to open up more of the countryside for leisure pursuits. Gregory was delighted, dancing around, talking about the things we could do, how we could celebrate.”
I smile, well aware of how he celebrated with Kelly.
“Then, a few minutes ago, he walks into my office, hands me an envelope, and tells me he’s resigned. His hands were shaking and I could tell he was struggling to hold it together. He said the decision was final and non-negotiable.” Frank sighs. “I tried to get hold of Kelly to see if she knew anything, but no one can find her. Have you spoken to her?”
“I think she had a migraine. Anyway, thanks for letting me know.”
“Actually, I rang to tell you Gregory deeply regrets incorporating Environmental Health into the Planning Department. He said he’d misjudged you and your team. He wants us to reinstate Environmental Health at the earliest opportunity. Would you be willing to return as the head of service?”
“That’s for the future, Frank. Right now, I imagine you’ll need to prepare a media release.”
After the call I copy the video and sound files onto my computer, saving additional copies on the cloud. For added security, I might hide a memory stick at Florence Mackay’s grave.
The idea brings me back to Harry’s murder. I wish Gemma was here to confirm my suspicions and help me like she used to do. When I close my eyes she’s lounging on the sofa like she’s always lived here. Her laughter fills the room. Her smile lights up the place. It feels so natural and comfortable having her around, sitting with Columbo between us.
Only it’s not going to happen, thanks to my stupidity.
Rather than berate myself, I drag thoughts back to the investigation. I have murders to solve. Kelly said I’d never find Miranda without her help. Kelly wanted me to believe Miranda was hiding, afraid of being arrested for murder.
I think she’s dead.
Kelly had a smug, untouchable air about her when she spoke about Miranda.
Was Miranda killed before Harry?
If she was, it answers my doubts about Miranda helping Harry after he dumped her.
It means the killer sent the fourth text that led us to Florence Mackay’s grave. Either the killer wanted me to solve the puzzle for him, or her, or send my investigation down the wrong track. Betty and Ollie said as much.
Did Harry go to Rathbone’s party to find out what happened to Miranda?
Without a confession from Kelly or Rathbone, I’ll never know, but Harry’s murder supports the idea.
Why kill Miranda?
She worked at Ashdown Activity Centre at the time Chrissy Jones drowned.
What did Miranda see or know that meant she had to die?
The answer to this question is the key to solving the murders.
This is what prompted Betty and Ollie to ask for Harry’s help. This is what led him to Ashdown Activity Centre and a link to Rathbone. But Harry also homed in on the drugs and discovered Miranda had been a lap dancer.
I look up at the whiteboard. “If Miranda worked at Ashdown Activity Centre, how did she end up lap dancing? Or was it the other way around?”
Columbo tilts his head from side to side, earnestly considering the question.
Pippa Castle claimed Miranda made spurious accusations. Enough to get her killed?
If Pippa Castle was at Rathbone’s engagement party, it might.
Like Johnny Spender or Susie Westcott, Pippa Castle’s name is not on the list of attendees.
Coroner’s Officer Beth Rimmer picks up on the third ring, her greeting amiable but suspicious. “Are you ringing about Harry Lawson or Adrian Peach?”
“I wondered who compiled the list of people at Gregory Rathbone’s engagement party.”
“His fiancée, Katya Novik. She arranged everything, including the invitation cards they sent out, the catering. She printed off the list I sent to you and Ashley.”
“How come Johnny Spender and Susie Westcott weren’t on the list?”
“She told me Rathbone had a habit of inviting people verbally and not telling her. It played havoc with the catering, though from what I saw, they had enough to feed an army. Anything else or do you have enough to solve the case?”
“I wish. Thanks for your help, Beth.”
I end the call, aware there’s still one avenue to check.
No hammer required for the wise hooter here.
No sledgehammer, no mallet, no mace, no lump hammer. I leave out the spaces between the words, wondering if Gemma’s trying to solve the clue.
Thoughts of her distract me for some time as I think about seeing her tonight at my father’s house. What if she doesn’t want to see me? What if she’s unhappy about Georgina’s deception? Gemma’s already upset because I didn’t trust her.
Can I win back her trust?
Columbo makes no comment.
I scoop him up and walk over to the window. Frances is with Lucy, one of our older volunteers, lifting potatoes in the kitchen garden. Lucy suggested we could start or sponsor a community allotment for people on low incomes or without gardens. While Frances supports the idea, she doesn’t want it at Meadow Farm.
I open the window and call down. “You should get an allotment, Frances.”
She looks up at me and shrieks. “That’s it,” she says, becoming animated. “We’re looking for an allotment.”
She runs around the barn and up the stairs. “I’ve solved the clue,” she says between breaths. “It’s an allotment. No hammer required. Not mallet. It’s an anagram of allotment.”
I hesitate, wondering why Harry would hide his notes on an allotment.
Then I picture Miranda’s body at the bottom of a compost heap.
Fifty-Five
If Harry thought Miranda’s body was lying in an allotment, he would have called the police.
Frances is undeterred. “The rest of the clue must tell us which allotment. A wise hooter must be an owl. Is it an anagram of owl and here? Or is that too obvious?”
While I don’t want to quash her enthusiasm, there’s a simple answer. “Tollingdon Town Council will have a list of allotments. So will Downland District Council. Ditto Eastbourne.”
When I return with two mugs of tea, she’s scrolling through the Eastbourne Garden and Allotments Society home page. A separate Google search reveals the allotments page on Tollingdon Town Council’s website. There are three allotments – one at Western Road, a second at Marsh View and a third at Nether Way.
“Go for the third,” I say. “I can see the word here in Nether Way. That leaves the letters N, T, W, A, Y.”
She whoops. “Tawny, as in owl.”
“Click on the link and get some contact details.”
The web page tells us there are no allotments available, but we can join the waiting list. Frances gives up the seat so I can send an email to Edward Rogers of the Tollingdon Allotments Society, asking him to ring me as soon as possible.
“Why don’t you drive over there, Kent? There’s bound to be someone who’s had an allotment for over fifty years and knows everyone. It beats sitting around here.”
I grab the two keys that came with the clue and head out of the door. With Google Maps to guide me, I drive off, opening all the windows to get some air circulating. While a few clouds take turns to obscure the sun, the temperature holds in the mid-twenties, twice that inside the car. Though excited to see what I’ll find at Nether Way, I can’t believe Harry owned an allotment.
He was always on the go, desperate to prove himself, but his determination brought out a vindictive side to his nature. Unforgiving of his own mistakes and lapses, he took an equally uncompromising view of other people’s errors and misfortunes. He expected them to work to the high standards he set himself.
Unattainable standards, as Miranda must have found when he discovered her past. He wouldn’t have cared about why she chose to be a lap dancer. She became damaged goods, not a suitable wife. It’s difficult to believe he could be so black and white, considering his own weakness with alcohol.
Then again, none of us are perfect. I lost the plot over Savanna. My emotions were all over the place after my brush with death during the last investigation. It’s no excuse for the fantasies I spun, but maybe they were a sign that I needed someone. Savanna strolled into my sanctuary and my hormones did the rest.
Only it wasn’t Savanna I wanted, was it?
Nor did I want to be a head of service at Downland.
That’s why I’ve had enough of fighting bad management, government spending cuts and corrupt councillors. Maybe it’s time to focus on the animals that need my help. I can’t eradicate cruelty, but I can give more animals a better life.
I can educate children to understand that all life matters.
The sound of a car horn reminds me I have a murder to solve first. I release the handbrake and drive through the traffic lights into Tollingdon. When I pass the town hall, I wonder how Frank Dean’s coping with the fallout from Rathbone’s resignation.
The footage of him undressing Kelly is damning.
What would Katya do if she saw her fiancé undressing her sister?
Within five minutes, I’ve reached the other side of town. The houses from the 1930s and 50s give way to modern estates, nibbling into the countryside. The exception is the small estate near to a former landfill site. Once social housing, tenants bought the houses at low prices during the 1980s and 90s, selling them later for a healthy profit. Nether Lane continues beyond the houses and becomes a rough track that leads to the allotments. The views across the marshes towards Herstmonceux and Wartling are breath taking.
The allotments are surrounded by mesh fencing, topped with barbed wire. The entrance gate is controlled by a digital lock. With rural thefts on the increase, the allotment owners want to protect their equipment. I park outside the site and walk up to the gate, admiring the busy mixture of allotments, separated by earth and gravel paths. Some plots have poly tunnels or greenhouses, nearly all have sheds of some description, and the volume of plants and vegetables could stock a supermarket. Someone has a caged area with chickens. Another allotment is a giant cage, protecting a variety of fruit bushes, but each one has its own character.
