Ann Cleeves - The Sleeping and the Dead

‘She told me.’

‘They’re nice kids. Her and Joseph.’

‘What is this about, Inspector? Marty and I have work to do. The library opens in twenty minutes.’

‘Did Theo mention anyone called Alec Reeves?’

There was moment before she reacted. He saw that she still wasn’t used to the boy’s new name. Then she shook her head. He was disappointed. If she had met him, he thought, she’d have remembered. She remembered everything else. But he persisted.

‘He was a friend of the Brices. You might have met him at their home.’

‘I didn’t meet anyone else there. They were content with their own company.’

‘He was sitting with the Brices for the final production of Macbeth . In the front row. You told me you chatted to the Brices in the interval. You would have seen him then.’

She sat with her eyes shut and he knew she was trying to re-create the scene. He had heard of photographic memory but he’d never before met anyone with such vivid recall.

‘A little man,’ she said. ‘Nondescript. Grey.’

‘Yes.’ He tried to keep the voice measured but she picked up his excitement.

‘Did he kill Michael?’

‘We want to talk to him.’

‘So you’re looking at someone else? Not just me.’

He smiled. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not just you.’

‘You’re right. He was staying with the Brices. He had been a member of the church but he’d been working away. There was a special service on the Sunday – a confirmation, I think. He’d come back for that and they’d persuaded him to stay the whole weekend.’

‘What did Theo think of him?’

‘He said he was boring. Boring but worthy.’

‘He wasn’t frightened of him? You said Theo phoned you on the Sunday to say he was scared and he needed to talk to you. Could he have been frightened of Alec Reeves?’

‘I don’t know. If he was, he didn’t say.’

‘Mr Reeves worked at a place called Redwood. Did Theo ever mention that to you?’

‘Wasn’t that the name of his school in Yorkshire?’

‘No,’ Porteous said gently. He didn’t want to do anything to stifle her memory. ‘I don’t think it was.’

‘Yes. I’m almost certain. Isn’t it strange? I’d been trying so hard to remember if he ever told me the name and couldn’t come up with a thing. Then you mentioned Redwood and the conversation’s come back to me almost word for word.’

‘Could you tell me? It is important.’

‘It was the George Eliot essay.’ She looked at him. She’d told him so many details of her time with Michael that she thought he knew it all. ‘He was a George Eliot fan. As was I. There was a teacher who inspired him. When I reran the conversation in my head first he talked about “someone in the old place”. But that wasn’t what he said. Not at first. He corrected himself straight away but what he first said was “someone in Redwood”.’

She beamed at him, delighted to have got it right. He could see why the fat psychologist fancied her.

So, Porteous thought, after the fire and Emily’s death, Theo was sent to Redwood. He’d attended Marwood Grange as a day boy. That’s why Hillier the housemaster hadn’t remembered him. He must have lived at Redwood for years, until he moved to live with the Brices. Why? Because it was a place of safety and Randle had thought he was in danger from his stepmother? Or because he was so traumatized by the death of his sister, that he needed long-term help? If they could establish that Melanie had been there too, they’d have their link between both teenagers and Alec Reeves.

Hannah walked with him back to the gate. Marty was sitting outside on the grass. As they walked past him the orderly gave her a look which was almost protective.

When he returned to the station Stout wasn’t there. Claire Wright had sent him home to get a bite to eat.

‘He was bushed,’ she said. ‘He was here most of the night again and then he went over to the old folks’ bungalow to talk to Charlie Luke. And spent the rest of the morning mooching around town.’

‘Looking out for Reeves?’

‘What do you think?’

Porteous thought Stout was driven, losing it, but he didn’t answer.

‘Ray Scully’s been on the phone.’

‘And?’

‘He’s here. At the coast. He came up last night to stay at his mum’s.’

‘Can you go to see him? Check out his alibi of course, but let him talk. Anything Melanie might have told him. Did she write? Has he kept the letters? Find out if there’s any possible connection between him and the Randles. Any gossip on the Gillespies would be useful too.’

‘Sure.’

From his office Porteous phoned Carver. The pathologist was out and nobody else seemed willing to tell him if the report on Melanie Gillespie had been sent. He sat at his desk for a moment then felt the old restlessness creeping up on him and went out.

He found Eddie Stout asleep in his garden. Bet opened the door to him. She’d been washing up and had on big yellow gloves like motorcycle gauntlets.

‘Look at him.’ She pointed through the open kitchen window to a neat patio, sheltered with a trellis covered by clematis and honeysuckle. Eddie sat in the shade in a green garden chair. His head was tilted back and his mouth was slightly open. He was snoring. ‘I came in to make him a sandwich and when I went out he was off. He’s still not eaten.’

‘Leave him.’ Porteous could smell the honeysuckle. ‘He’s been doing too much. It’s not urgent.’

‘No. He’d never forgive me if he knew you’d been and I’d not told him.’

Eddie woke with a start like a small boy startled from a dream. Bet left them. In the kitchen they heard her singing along to Classic FM, the sound of water running into a kettle. Eddie moved stiffly, easing the stiffness from his body.

‘It looks as if you’re right,’ Porteous said. ‘About Alec Reeves.’ But even as he spoke he was trying to make sense of it. What had the Brices been playing at? They must have heard the rumours about Reeves but they’d invited him into a house where a young kid was staying. Then he thought – No, it was the other way round. Theo knew Reeves before he came to live with the Brices. Reeves must have introduced them.

‘It looks as if Theo Randle was at Redwood,’ Peter went on. ‘Hannah Morton remembered his mentioning it. I haven’t checked but I bet Melanie was there too, just before it closed.’

Stout shut his eyes, a silent prayer of thanks.

‘Have they found him yet?’

Porteous shook his head.

‘You’ll be going public then? Tell the press we want to talk to him?’

‘Tomorrow. I promise. I’m still worried about lack of evidence. Coincidence. It could be no more than that. If we come to trial I want nobody saying there can’t be a fair hearing because of the ranting of the press. You can be sure all the old rumours will come out. Publicity works both ways. I’ve arranged to see Alice Cornish and she might have more information on Reeves. In the meantime you could ask again around the town. Discreetly. If he’s come back here someone will know about it.’

‘When are you seeing her?’

‘I’m going straight from here. She still lives in Yorkshire.’

Eddie nodded with approval. ‘I’m seeing the Spences as you suggested. And Chris Johnson.’

‘Any problems?’

‘Not with the Spences. She’s a reporter, isn’t she? All over me like a rash. Johnson wasn’t so happy but he knew better than to object.’

‘Look,’ Porteus said. ‘Take a couple of hours off. The rest of the day if you need it. Those interviews can wait until tomorrow.’

Stout didn’t even bother to answer that. ‘I think Reeves has done a runner. He’s not gone home. He’s not visited his sister. He’s guessed that we’re on to him.’