Ann Cleeves - The Moth Catcher

‘When Lizzie was still at school she had a relationship with one of the teachers. Got him sacked.’

‘Not her fault that!’ Vera shot back. ‘Especially if she was underage. The only guilty party was the man.’

‘I’d have thought just the same.’ Paula paused for a moment to finish her tea, though it must have been cold by now. ‘Until I met her. Lizzie has no boundaries. No limits. She goes for what she wants without any worry about the consequences, especially if the consequences are for other people.’ There was another hesitation. Outside in the street a couple of drunks were shouting to each other. ‘Sam and Annie were always bailing her out. I used to dread it when there was a phone call at work and it was from Lizzie. Sam would drop everything in the kitchen and rush out to rescue her from whatever scrape she’d made for herself. He’d bring her back here – they had a flat over the restaurant for a while – and she’d be pissed or stoned. Or just mad. Laughing like a drain, or in floods of tears.’

‘Did they try to get her some help?’

Paula shrugged. ‘I don’t think they wanted to admit that there was anything seriously wrong. Not then. Annie made excuses for her. She was always saying that Lizzie had finally turned a corner and they’d arrange for a new college course for her, or pay off someone she’d had a go at.’ Paula fished in her bag and pulled out a cigarette, lit it and took a drag.

‘This is a public place, and that’s illegal.’ But Vera trotted out the words with no force. Everyone had the right to their own vices.

‘You know what?’ Paula said. ‘I don’t fucking care.’

Outside in the street the drunks had started yelling some football chant. The end of the season and at least their team wasn’t going down.

‘Is that why Sam and Annie sold the restaurant?’ It was a big leap in the logic, but Vera thought Paula’s antipathy to Elizabeth was personal. She hated the girl, because she hated working for the new owners. ‘Was it something to do with Lizzie?’

A silence. ‘I don’t know. Like I said, they didn’t confide in me. Why would they? I’d only worked my guts out for them for about twelve years.’ Now the bitterness was obvious. ‘I only asked Annie to be my fucking bridesmaid.’

‘But you might have guessed?’ Vera’s voice was as gentle as a mother’s. ‘You strike me as a woman who understands things. Who’d know what was going on in that family. You and Annie were close as sisters.’

‘They found Lizzie a job,’ Paula said. ‘Pulled some strings. I don’t know how. Or perhaps Lizzie arranged it herself. Fancied the boss and made promises she was only too happy to keep. Rumour has it he fancied her rotten anyway, so perhaps the attraction worked both ways.’

‘And the name of the boss?’ Vera’s voice was as quiet as a whisper. Paula was in full flow and she didn’t want that to stop.

‘Jason Crow.’ Paula made it sound like a swear word. ‘Builder. Developer. Local wide-boy.’

The name was familiar. Vera had come across it through work. Crow had been charged with threatening behaviour, and then the case had been miraculously dropped when the victim had decided not to press charges. She said nothing, though, and Paula carried on talking: ‘Lizzie worked in the office. She did the filing. Sent out bills. Looked glamorous when the customers turned up. Kept the boss happy in her spare time. But it seemed she wasn’t as stupid as we all thought. She found some way of fiddling the payroll, siphoning a bit off every month into her own account. It took Jason six months to find out what was going on. It had made him look ridiculous and that was unforgivable. He was going to make an example of her.’

‘He threatened to go to the police?’

Paula looked up and gave a slow, wide smile. ‘Oh, that would only have been the start.’

‘Go on, Paula. Make the connection for me.’ The same encouraging mother’s voice.

‘The new owner of this place is Jason’s little brother. He already had a wine bar in Morpeth and he wanted to expand. Go figure.’ Paula stubbed out her cigarette on the side of her mug.

‘So Sam and Annie sold the place to Jason, to stop him having a go at their daughter.’

Paula shrugged. ‘I don’t know how much they got for it, but I bet it was nowhere near the market price. And it didn’t do any good, did it? That’s the fucking irony. The lovely Lizzie managed to get into quite enough bother, all by herself. And now she’s safe from Jason and all the Crows.’

‘Why? What happened?’

‘Nine months ago she got into a fight in a Newcastle nightclub and stuck a bottle into another lass’s face. Only just missed her eye. She’s in prison.’ Paula looked around her at the cold and dusty room. ‘Annie and Sam sold up for nothing.’

Eight o’clock in Kimmerston police station. A weekday morning, but still the street outside was quiet. Sal had been on overnight toddler duty, so Joe felt refreshed, ready to take on the day. Ready to take on Vera. She was there before any of them and he wondered if she’d been in the building all night. Occasionally he’d found her asleep in the chair in her office at the start of the day. But she too looked bright and rested. No Holly. She’d been sent to take Alicia Randle to the hospital mortuary, so that she could view her son’s body. Even Charlie seemed awake. His daughter had moved home recently and he’d lost the air of depression and neglect that had lingered over him since his wife had left.

Vera had pinned a large-scale OS map on the board and started talking them through the geography, summing up for the new members of the team, who’d been drafted in to help. ‘This is the village of Gilswick. A pub, a church and a post office. Some older residents who’ve lived there for years, and lots of newcomers who commute to Newcastle or Kimmerston. Still, it’s a place where strangers are noticed, and I want all the houses canvassed. Let’s aim to do the whole community, even if it means repeat visits to catch folk in this evening. We know that Martin Benton arrived on the bus and Patrick Randle picked him up. Was anyone else seen in the place? We’re especially interested if they made their way down this valley.’ She pointed with a ruler to the map and looked around the room to check that she had their full attention.

‘This is where Randle’s body was found by Percy Douglas.’ Another stab at the map. ‘And this is the big house where Randle was the temporary house-sitter and where Benton’s body was found.’ A pause. ‘Joe, fill us in on what we know about our victims.’

Joe stood up. At one time he’d been nervous about taking centre-stage, but he thought Vera had cured him of that.

‘Patrick Randle. Only son of Alicia, who’s a widow. There was another boy, Simon, but he died before Patrick was born. Suicide. Patrick’s family was affluent. He went to an independent boys’ school and a good university. Graduated with a first, and went on to do a PhD in Exeter. Area of study was moths as an indicator of climate change. After the doctorate he decided to take a year out, before settling back into academia.’ For the first time Joe looked up from his notes. ‘Apparently that’s unusual. If you get offered a university post you grab onto it, before they change their minds. There’s fierce competition.’

‘So why did he take the year out?’ Vera could never keep quiet for very long in these sessions. ‘And why not do something a bit more exciting than house-sitting in rural Northumberland? It seems he separated from his long-term girlfriend at around the same time as he left university. Was that why he wanted to get away? Or was it a sign of some other crisis in his life?’ There was no answer in the room and she looked over at Joe. ‘Go on then! We don’t want to be sat here all day.’