Ann Cleeves - The Crow Trap

The woman shook her head. “Wednesday’s our busiest day and I don’t know many customers by name. Not even the regulars.”

Vera took out a snap which she’d nicked from the bedroom at Black Law.

“That ring any bells?”

“Oh aye. I remember her. Every Wednesday as regular as clockwork. A toasted tuna and sweet corn followed by a chocolate meringue. Until a couple of months ago. She hasn’t been in lately. I wondered what I’d done to offend her. She was a bit on the brusque side. The sort who might take offence.”

“She died,” Vera said. “Was she here on her own?”

“No. She usually met a gentleman friend.”

Out of her large floppy briefcase Vera took a photograph of Edmund Fulwell, the one which had been shown in the local paper requesting information and which today would be on the front page of all the nationals. The woman apparently wasn’t interested in the news. At least she made no comment about having seen the photo before. “Aye,” she said. “That’s the one.”

“When you say gentleman friend, did you have the impression that they were romantically involved?”

As she waited for an answer Vera wondered what Rachael would make of that. St. Bella having a bit on the side. It could ruin her faith in human nature.

The woman considered the question. “Hard to say. She was usually here before him. He arrived flustered as if it had been a bit of a rush. He always gave her a kiss. Only a peck on the cheek but at their age anything more wouldn’t have been seemly. Still, these days… Folks always seem to be kissing and hugging, don’t they? Even people who’ve only just met. So I don’t really know.”

Vera contained her impatience. “But what’s your instinct? After having thought about it. You work with people all day. You must get a feel for things like that.”

She was flattered, which was what Vera had intended. “I suppose you do. On balance then, I’d say close friends. Not lovers.” She paused.

“If anything I’d say he was more attracted to the other one.”

“What other one?”

“The other woman. She wasn’t in very often -perhaps three times all together. But when she was he made a fuss of her.”

“Any idea of her name?”

“None at all.” She seemed pleased that she couldn’t help.

“What did she look like?”

“She was younger than them but not that much younger. She knew how to dress if you know what I mean. Perhaps a bit overdressed. Too smart for town on a Wednesday.”

“Anything else you can tell me?”

But the woman had already lost interest. She looked at her watch.

“No,” she said. “I can’t really remember her. Just the impression that I got of her at the time.”

“But if I showed you a photo you’d be able to say whether it was the woman or not?”

“No, not a chance. Like I said, Wednesday’s a busy day.” Thanks, Vera thought, for nothing.

Vera walked back through the precinct to her car. The town was busier now, mostly with elderly people who couldn’t use their bus passes until after nine o’clock. One couple stood outside the grocer’s shop bickering about whether they should buy cabbage or turnip to go with their dinner.

Vera had a stab of recognition which made her stop in her tracks. For a moment the woman, overweight, aggressive, seen reflected in the shop window, looked very much like her.

What’ll I do when I retire?” she thought. I’ll not even have anyone to fight with.

Then a young woman pushed a buggy into her shins. Vera turned and glowered and the brief moment of despair passed.

She had intended to go back to the police station but at the last minute changed her mind and took the familiar road out of Kimmerston towards Langholme. Now that she had evidence that Bella and Edmund Fulwell had kept in touch since they’d left the hospital, she wished she’d listened more carefully when Rachael and Edie had been wittering on about the Nobles. But she thought she’d be able to rattle Charlie’s cage.

The stables were quiet. A teenage girl in a green sweater with KIMMERSTON EQUESTRIAN CENTRE emblazoned on the breast was forking mucky straw into a barrow. Two stout middle-aged women prepared to mount their horses. Vera thought it all looked very prosperous and well-ordered. There was a customers’ car park, properly laid with tarmac, marked with white lines and bordered by wooden tubs full of bedding plants. Charlie had turned into a canny businessman just like his dad.

She approached the girl.

“Mr. Noble?”

The girl looked at her dubiously. Vera was wearing her floral crimplene dress and her sandals. “Do you want to book a ride?”

I want to talk to Mr. Noble.”

“I think he’s in the house. But he doesn’t really like being disturbed in the mornings.”

“Why? What does he get up to?”

The girl blushed, confused.

Only joking, pet,” Vera said. “Never mind, I’ll find my own way.”

She strode on, past the newly converted stable block to the freshly painted house, thinking that if she smelled anything at all, it was money.

Charlie Noble himself opened the door. She didn’t think she’d have recognized him if she’d bumped into him in the street. He was younger than her. When she’d last seen him he’d hardly looked more than a schoolboy, spotty, graceless, obviously cowed by his bully of a father.

He had the same expression but now he was old, stooped, bespectacled.

“Yes?” he said crossly. He was wearing a sweater and breeches. “I was just going out.”

“Don’t you recognize me, Charlie?” she asked, hearty as a jolly aunt.

“I’m sorry… ” He hesitated, squinting at her over his specs.

Good God, she thought. I must have aged as much as him. “Come on, Charlie. I may have put on a few pounds but I can’t have changed that much. Or perhaps you don’t recognize me without the uniform? We spent a lot of time together, you and I, in that mausoleum of a house when your dad passed away. Drinking cups of tea while we waited for the bosses to get their act together.”

He stared at her. She thrust out her hand, grasped his unresisting one. “Vera Stanhope,” she said, beaming. “Inspector now. Only a constable then.”

“Yes.” He stepped back from her as if she was a dog you had to treat with caution. “I remember.”

“Aren’t you going to invite me in then? A cup of tea for old times’ sake.”

“I was going out,” he said uncertainly.

“You must have a few minutes for a chat. And I’d like to meet your lady wife.”

She stepped past him into the house. “Mrs. Noble!” she shouted into the silence. “You’ve got a visitor. Put the kettle on, pet.”

They drank filter coffee in the room where Edie and Rachael had been taken on their last visit. Louise carried it in. She was wearing a sleeveless linen dress, navy, very smart, and said breathlessly that she’d leave them to it. She was meeting some friends for lunch and she needed to get ready.

“You look ready enough to me,” Vera said. “I’ll not keep you now but I’d be grateful if you could spare me a few minutes of your precious time later. Before you leave.” She smiled fondly.

Louise shot a look at her husband. “Yes,” she said. “Of course.” She backed out of the room and shut the door.

“What’s this about?” Charles said.

“Well, I’m not just here for a chat though it’s always nice to catch up on old acquaintances. It’s about Bella.”

“I didn’t know anything about her suicide before those women came to tell me.” “So they said. Shocking, isn’t it? All those years living just up the valley and never met.” Vera paused. “She killed the old man for you, didn’t she, Charlie?”