A Dedicated Man Page 23

  11

  ONE

  The numerous becks that ran down the slopes of Swainsdale to the river were flowing copiously, bringing rainwater from the higher land. A fine mist, like baby’s hair, rose from the valley sides as the sun warmed the waterlogged earth. The colours were newly rinsed, too; fresh vibrant greens sloped up from the road, and bright skullcaps of purple heather, softened by the thin veil of mist, fringed the peaks.

  Penny, walking with Jack Barker along High Street, was the first to notice a small crowd gathered on the bridge, under which a combination of becks, grown almost to the strength of a river themselves, cascaded from the southern heights down to the Swain.

  A woman in a sleeveless yellow dress was pointing up the valley side, and the others followed her gaze, leaning over the low stone parapet. Penny and Barker soon reached the spot and stopped to see what the excitement was. They had an uninterrupted view up the dale side along the beck’s course, on to which backed several gardens full of bright flowers. Some distance away they could see what looked like a child’s rag doll tumbling recklessly down the swollen stream. It was hypnotic, Penny thought, to watch the thing turn cartwheels and flail, snag on the rocks and break free as the water pushed and dragged it.

  Then the woman in the yellow dress put her hand over her mouth and gasped. The others, including Penny, whose long-distance eyesight had never been good, leaned further over and screwed up their eyes to peer more closely. It was only after the shock wave had rippled through the crowd that Penny realized what was happening. It was not a rag doll that came head over heels down the stream, but a body. Tufts of clothing still clung to the torn flesh. It looked raw, like a side of beef in a butcher’s window; patches of skin had been ripped clean off, hair torn away from the scalp, and splintered bones stuck through at elbows and shins.

  There was no face to recognize, but Penny knew, as did all the other locals on the bridge, that it was the body of Sally Lumb come back to the village where she was born.

  Penny wrenched her eyes away while Barker and the others still stared in disbelief. Somebody mentioned an ambulance, somebody else the police, and the group split up in chaos.

  Penny and Barker walked in a daze until they got to the Hare and Hounds, then they went inside and ordered double Scotches.

  ‘Seen a ghost?’ the barman asked.

  ‘Something like that,’ Barker said, and gave a garbled version of what had happened. Soon, customers went streaming out to look, leaving drinks on tables, cardigans and handbags on chairs.

  The barman gave them each another double Scotch on the house and rushed off to see himself. The pub was empty; anybody could have walked in and robbed the place blind, but nobody did. Penny downed the fiery whisky; she was aware of her hand gripping Barker’s so tight that the nails must have dug into his flesh.

  TWO

  ‘It’s a bugger, Alan,’ Gristhorpe said, rubbing his eyes, which had lost much of their childlike innocence through lack of sleep. He looked tired, pale and hurt, as if the whole affair, done right on his doorstep, was a personal affront. ‘A bugger . . .’

  They were in the Queen’s Arms opposite the station, and it was almost afternoon closing time. Only a few dedicated drinkers and tourists in need of a late sandwich and shandy sat scattered around the lounge.

  ‘We’ve got nothing so far,’ the superintendent went on, sniffing as Banks lit a cigarette. ‘The body was so bloody waterlogged and badly battered Glendenning couldn’t give us any idea of what killed her. For all he can say, she might have fallen in and hit her head, or just drowned. A full autopsy’s going to take time, and even then they can’t promise owt.’

  ‘What’s Glendenning doing now?’

  ‘You know him, Alan – couldn’t wait to get at it. Stomach contents, organs, tissue samples. God knows, they’ve got to keep looking. It could even be poison.’

  ‘What do you think?’ Banks asked, sipping his pint of Theakston’s bitter.

  Gristhorpe shook his head. ‘I don’t know. They’ve got their jobs to do. Does it matter what killed her at this point? If we’re right, and it’s what we think it is, there was probably just a blow to the head, like Steadman. Glendenning might not even be able to verify that.’

  ‘I just wish we knew a bit more about why it happened,’ Banks said. ‘Certainly I think there’s a connection to the Steadman case – has to be – I just don’t know what it is. The girl knew something and instead of coming to me she confronted the killer. I suppose she wasn’t sure and simply wanted to find out for herself. Add it all up and we’ve still got nothing. So she knew something. What? She phoned someone. Who? Why? They met. Where?’

  ‘We might be able to answer that last one soon,’ Gristhorpe said. ‘I’ve got men following the becks all the way up the hillside looking for physical evidence. There’ll be some kind of grisly map of her progress.’

  THREE

  ‘That’s scotched work for today,’ Jack Barker punned weakly as he accepted his third refill from Penny. It was over two hours since they had seen the wreckage of Sally Lumb tumble down the valley side. Penny had stopped after her second drink, but Barker was still at it.

  ‘Maybe you shouldn’t,’ Penny warned him.

  ‘It’s already too late. Thanks for your concern, though.’

  When Penny looked down at Barker, she felt the stirring of something like love. Whatever it was, the feeling disoriented her and she was angry with herself for not knowing what to do. Though it had felt good at first when they had come back to the cottage and he had held her, she hated the feelings of weakness that came with it. She knew that her feelings for him were not platonic, but instead of reaching out, she drew in and strengthened her shell.

  Barker seemed to sense something of her chaotic emotions, she thought, when he reached out again for her hand, which she allowed him to hold lightly.

  ‘I suppose I always did have a weak stomach,’ he said. ‘Pathetic really, isn’t it? Here I am writing about blood and guts for a living and as soon as I see . . .’ His words trailed off and he started to shake. He put his glass on the table, spilling some Scotch as he did so. Then Penny sat beside him and held him. It seemed ages to her before either of them moved, and each would have said the other broke away first.

  ‘You should get some sleep, Jack,’ Penny said softly.

  ‘What the hell’s going on, Penny?’ he asked. ‘What’s happening to this place?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Penny answered, stroking his hair. ‘At least, I . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Or maybe nothing. I don’t know. But it’s got to stop.’

  FOUR

  ‘Under a packhorse bridge,’ Banks said. ‘That’s what the super told me. On the south slope.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Sandra asked. They were having an early evening drink in the Queen’s Arms. Sandra had just finished shopping, and Banks had suggested that, as they had seen so little of one another the past few days, they meet for a chat. Brian and Tracy were old enough to manage on their own for an hour or two.

  ‘It means he was wrong about where to look first, and he’s kicking himself for that.’

  ‘But he couldn’t have known,’ Sandra said. ‘It made perfect sense to look on the north side first.’

  ‘That’s what everyone says, but you know what he’s like.’

  ‘Yes. Just like you. Stubborn. Takes it all on himself.’

  ‘He’ll get over it,’ Banks said. ‘Anyway, they found clothes fibres on the stones under this bridge. She must have been hidden there and covered with stones. Then when the heavy rains came, some of the stones were washed aside and she was carried down the valley. They’ve not found any traces above the bridge, and it looked like an ideal place – isolated but accessible by car, just.’

  ‘Does it help, finding the body?’

  ‘Not really. Not the state it’s in. And too much time has gone by. We’ll ask around of course – anybody heading that way, or
back – but we can’t expect too much. Whoever we’re dealing with is smart, and he’s not likely to make silly mistakes.’

  ‘This probably had to be done in a hurry, though,’ Sandra reminded him. ‘There wouldn’t have been much time for planning.’

  ‘Still, it’s not going to be easy.’

  ‘Is it ever?’

  Banks shrugged and lit a cigarette.

  ‘By the way,’ Sandra said. ‘I haven’t had a chance to say so before now, but I’m glad you got rid of that bloody pipe.’

  ‘It didn’t suit me.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Too Country Life?’

  Sandra laughed. ‘Yes, I’d say so. You’d not fool many, though. Least of all yourself.’

  ‘There’s not many would say they’re glad to see a person smoke, either,’ Banks said, holding out the pack while Sandra, an occasional smoker, helped herself. ‘But I do intend to cut down and stick to these mild things.’

  ‘Promises!’

  ‘The girl, you know,’ Banks said after a brief pause, ‘was a virgin as far as forensic could make out. Hadn’t been shot, stabbed, poisoned or sexually assaulted. Virgin.’

  ‘I wonder if that’s a good thing,’ Sandra asked.

  ‘What? That she hadn’t been assaulted?’

  ‘No. That she died a virgin.’

  ‘It won’t make any difference to her now, poor beggar,’ said Banks. ‘And I doubt it’s the kind of thing they inscribe on tombstones. But at least we can be sure she wasn’t tormented or tortured. She probably died very quickly, without even knowing what was happening.’

  ‘Are you going to get the killer soon, Alan?’ Sandra asked, swirling the smooth fragments of ice in the bottom of her glass. ‘And don’t treat me like a reporter. Be honest.’

  ‘I’d like to say yes, but we’ve got so damn little to go on. We can trace the girl’s movements until about nine o’clock Friday evening, and that’s it.’

  ‘While we were at the folk club?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Sandra shivered. ‘We were so close.’

  ‘Does that make a difference?’

  ‘It’s just a funny feeling, that’s all. What about the writer and the singer?’

  ‘She could be protecting him, or they could be working together. It’s hard to know what to believe when things are clouded by so much gossip. The others all go back so far, too. Lord knows what complex webs of feelings they’ve set up between one another over the years. It seems to me that in a place like Helmthorpe emotions go deeper and last longer than in a big city.’

  ‘Nonsense. Think about all those feuds and gang rivalries in London.’

  ‘That’s business, in a way. I mean the ordinary things between people.’

  ‘Who had the best motive?’ Sandra asked.

  ‘The one with the least opportunity.’ Banks smiled at the irony. ‘That’s if you call a lot of money a good motive. There could also be all kinds of jealousies involved. That’s why I can’t leave Barker and Penny Cartwright out of it altogether.’

  ‘The wife inherits?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘She came in for some bridge work yesterday.’

  ‘What did you think of her?’

  ‘I didn’t see much of her, really. Only when she came to the window to confirm her appointment. She seemed quite an attractive woman.’

  ‘She didn’t look much to me.’

  ‘That’s typical of a man,’ Sandra said. ‘All you can see is the surface.’

  ‘But you must admit she’s let herself go.’

  ‘It looks like it, yes,’ Sandra said slowly. ‘But I don’t think so. It’s all there. She’s fine under all those awful clothes. Her bone structure’s good, too. Of course, if you’d known her before or not seen her for a long time, she’d definitely look as if she’d gone downhill, I suppose.’

  ‘A pretty young thing.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ Banks said. ‘Just remembering something. Go on.’

  ‘All I’m saying is the potential’s there for her to be an attractive woman. She can’t be much older than me.’

  ‘Late thirties.’

  ‘Well, then. She must only look plain because she wants to, because it doesn’t matter to her. Not all women are obsessed with their looks, you know. Perhaps there are other things more important to her.’

  ‘Perhaps. What you’re saying,’ Banks went on slowly, ‘is that with the right hairstyle, good clothes and a little make-up . . .’

  ‘She could be quite a stunner, yes.’

  FIVE

  Penny was at the stove roasting spices for a curry when Barker made his way down the narrow stairs.

  ‘So, the sleeper awakes,’ she greeted him.

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Seven o’clock.’

  ‘At night?’

  ‘Yes. It’s still the same day. Hungry? I shouldn’t think so, with a hangover like you must have. Anyway, I’m making a curry. Take it or leave it.’

  ‘Your generosity and grace overwhelm me,’ Barker said. ‘As a matter of fact, I don’t feel too bad. I’ve just got a hell of a headache.’

  ‘Aspirin’s in the bathroom cabinet.’

  ‘What happened?’ Barker asked.

  ‘You mean you don’t remember?’

  ‘Not after the third drink. Or was it the fourth?’ He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles.

  ‘You really don’t remember?’ Penny repeated, sounding shocked. ‘Well, that’s a fine compliment, isn’t it?’

  ‘You mean . . . ?’

  Penny laughed. ‘Don’t be a fool, Jack. I’m only kidding. You got tired and I helped you upstairs to sleep it off. That’s all.’

  ‘All?’

  ‘Yes. You don’t think I’d fall into bed with you the way you were earlier, do you?’

  ‘I’ll get some aspirin,’ Jack said, and made his painful way back upstairs to the bathroom.

  ‘We’ll let that simmer for a while,’ Penny said when he came back, ‘and have a sit-down. Drink?’

  ‘My God, no!’ Barker groaned. ‘But on the other hand, hair of the dog and all that. Not whisky, though.’

  ‘Beer do?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Sam Smith’s?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Good. It’s all I’ve got. Chilled too.’

  Penny got the beer and Barker sat on the sofa drinking out of the bottle.

  ‘What you said, Penny,’ he began, ‘about not, you know, sleeping with me in a state like that . . .’

  ‘I doubt you’d have been able to get it up, would you?’ she mocked, a mischievous smile crinkling the corners of her mouth.

  ‘I might be a bit slow,’ Barker replied, ‘but are you implying that if I’d been sober . . . I mean, you might actually . . . you know?’

  Penny put her finger to his lips and stopped him. ‘That’s for me to know and you to find out,’ she said.

  ‘Dammit, Penny,’ he said, ‘you can’t just ignore me half the time and then tease me the rest. It’s not fair. I’m upset enough as it is about the girl floating down and all that.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Jack. It just doesn’t come out right. I stop one game and start another, don’t I?’

  ‘That’s how it seems. Why don’t you give me a straight answer?’

  ‘What’s the question?’

  ‘I’ve already asked you.’

  ‘Oh, that. I’m glad you were drunk, Jack, because no, I don’t think I would have. Is that straight enough?’

  ‘It seems to be,’ Barker said, disappointment clear in his tone.

  Penny went on quickly, ‘It’s not as simple as you think. What I mean is, I’m glad I wasn’t forced into making a decision there and then. I’m weak, I might have said yes and regretted it. It would have been so easy then, so natural to make love after being confronted with death. But I wouldn’t have been able to get Sally out of my mind, that awful torn body . . .’

  ‘I understand that. But
why would you regret it?’

  Penny shrugged. ‘Lots of reasons. So much has happened. It’s too quick, too soon. It would be easy to jump into bed with you. You’re an attractive man. But I want more than that, Jack. I don’t just want to be like one of the bimbos you sleep with when you’re down in London publicizing your books.’

  ‘I don’t, and you never could be.’

  ‘Whatever. I’ve had enough disappointments in my life. I want some stability. I know it sounds conventional and corny, but I want to settle down, and I think I might be better off doing it by myself. I’m not one of these women who depends on a man.’

  ‘It’s just as well; I’m hardly dependable.’ Barker lit a cigarette and coughed. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘I don’t care whether this is the right place and time or what it is, but I love you, Penny. That’s what I’m trying to get at. Not whether you’ll sleep with me or not. There, I’ve said it. Maybe I’ve made a fool of myself.’

  Penny looked at him carefully for a long time, then she said, ‘I don’t know if I can handle being in love.’

  ‘Try it,’ Barker said, leaning forward and stroking her hair. ‘You never know, you might like it.’

  Penny looked away. Barker moved closer and took her in his arms. She tensed, but didn’t break the embrace.

  Finally, she disengaged herself and looked at him seriously. ‘Don’t expect too much of me,’ she said. ‘I’m used to fending for myself and I like it.’

  ‘You and I,’ Jack said, ‘we’ve been living alone so long it’s frightening to think about change. So let’s just take it easy, slowly.’

  A bell rang in the kitchen.

  ‘That’s telling me the curry’s ready.’ Penny got up.