Simon Beckett - The Restless Dead

I was glad it had grown dark enough to mask my surprise. There was no reason why Lundy should have mentioned it, but that had to be the same quayside where the estuary recovery operation had been launched from.

Rachel absently toyed with her almost-empty glass. ‘Nobody’ll say so officially, but they think she must have gone there to meet Villiers. After that, no one knows. And now we probably never will, because that... that fucking coward killed himself rather than tell us.’

No, I thought, no, he didn’t. He’d killed someone else to make it look that way.

The intimacy I’d felt between us earlier was slipping away. The last of it vanished as a car door slammed outside.

‘That’ll be Andrew,’ Rachel said. She straightened, looking around as though remembering where she was. ‘It’s getting dark in here.’

She got up and switched on the lights. The twilight outside turned black, creek and marsh vanishing as the window’s glass expanse became a mirror that reflected the room back at us. There was the sound of the front door opening, and then Trask’s heavy tread came up the stairs.

He looked worn out. The skin of his face was bloodless, the lines in it etched more deeply than ever. With his clothes still crumpled and mud-stained, he seemed ten years older than he had that morning. He paused when he saw me, as though struggling to register why I might be there.

‘How is she?’ Rachel asked as he crossed to the sink.

‘Sleeping. The doctors say she should be OK to come home tomorrow.’ Running the tap, he filled a mug. His Adam’s apple worked as he drained it thirstily, then set it down with a sigh. ‘Where’s Jamie?’

‘Out with Liam and some of the others. He didn’t say where they were going.’

A look of annoyance crossed Trask’s face, but he didn’t seem to have the energy to sustain it. I saw him take in the wine glasses and sandwiches still left on the plate. So did Rachel. I expected her to ask if he wanted a glass, but she didn’t.

‘Do you want me to make you something to eat?’ she asked quickly.

‘I’ll get something later. So is this a social visit, Dr Hunter?’

‘No, I called to collect my things,’ I said, getting to my feet. The last thing Trask looked as though he needed was guests. ‘I’m glad Fay’s all right.’

‘So am I.’

‘David’s going to be here for a few more days,’ Rachel told him. ‘I said it’d be OK for him to stay at the boathouse.’

Something like interest kindled in the bloodshot eyes. ‘Are you working with the police?’

‘Just routine lab work.’

I hoped that was vague enough to put him off. He nodded, his interest already waning. ‘Stay as long as you like.’

There was an awkward moment. ‘Well, I’d better be going.’

‘I’ll see you out,’ Rachel said as I headed for the stairs. We’d started down them when Trask called.

‘Dr Hunter.’ He came to the top of the stairs as we paused. ‘If you’re around tomorrow evening you can join us for dinner. We eat around seven thirty.’

I could see Rachel was as surprised as I was. I hesitated, quickly weighing up whether or not to accept. But after everything else that had happened I couldn’t see any reason not to. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

My boots had stiffened from their second soaking but they were still serviceable. Rachel gave me my freshly laundered clothes and still-damp jacket as I shucked on Trask’s old one again, insisting I take the replacement groceries I’d bought that morning as well. But she seemed subdued, and as the door closed behind me I hoped she wasn’t regretting opening up as much as she had.

Night was settling on the Backwaters as I set off through the copse of silver birch. The white trunks looked ghostly in the near-dark, and their branches stirred in the wind that carried the faint lapping of the creek. I was halfway back to my car when I realized I didn’t have my key. I turned to head back to the house, but stopped when the front door opened and Rachel emerged.

‘Looking for this?’ she asked, coming down the steps and holding out my car key.

‘It might help. Thanks.’

‘I’ve still got the one for the boathouse, as well. You gave it back to me this morning.’

I’d forgotten all about that. Glad I hadn’t driven there before I’d found out, I waited as Rachel began going through the assortment of keys on the heavy ring.

‘Sorry, it’s on here somewhere. I’ve been using Emma’s spare set, and I still don’t know what half of them are,’ she said, struggling to see in the poor light. ‘OK, here it is.’

Her fingers brushed against mine as she gave me the boathouse key. The contact was fleeting, but I felt a tingle like a tiny electric shock. Rachel stood on the path, looking uneasy.

‘Look, what I was telling you earlier...’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t say anything,’ I reassured her, disappointed she felt she had to ask.

‘Oh, no, I didn’t mean that,’ she said quickly, reaching out to touch my arm. ‘I just... well, I wanted to say thanks. I don’t usually moan on like that, but there’s no one out here I can talk to.’

‘You weren’t moaning. And I was glad to listen.’

She was standing close enough for me to feel her body heat in the evening’s chill. The moment stretched on.

‘OK, then,’ she said, giving a quick smile as she stepped away. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

OK, then . I watched her go back to the house, waiting until I heard the door close before carrying on to my car. It was still damp inside, with a musty smell I knew would take for ever to fade, but I barely noticed. I realized I was still smiling. The engine started first time, and if anything the car handled more smoothly than it had before. Jamie had done a good job, and I made a note to thank — and pay — him when I came for dinner tomorrow evening.

But it was Rachel I was thinking about as I drove back to the boathouse. She touched your arm a couple of times; let’s not read too much into it . I should be focusing on what I had to do tomorrow at the mortuary. I’d a busy day ahead of me.

As it turned out it was busier than I expected. Next morning the police found a grave at Leo Villiers’ house.

I got the call from Lundy just before lunchtime. I’d spent the morning rinsing the disarticulated skeleton from the Barrows, which had been simmering in detergent solution overnight. Even though the bones had been inside a fume cupboard the air still smelled disconcertingly of beef stew. The next step would be to reassemble them, a time-consuming process that involved laying out all two hundred and six individual bones in the correct anatomical position, until the full skeleton was re-formed. That would take even longer here, with the cranium shattered by the shotgun blast. So, since Clarke was impatient for information, I’d been examining the surfaces of certain key bones as I’d removed them from the pans. I hoped to be able to give her at least a preliminary summary by the end of the day.

Lan tapped on the examination room door as I was rinsing off the pelvis. ‘Detective Inspector Lundy’s on the phone, Dr Hunter.’

I’d left my own phone in the locker with the rest of my things, not wanting to take it into the examination room while I was working. Putting the pelvis on to a stainless-steel tray, I stripped off my gloves and went to take the call.

‘How soon can you be at Leo Villiers’ house?’ Lundy said, without preamble.

‘How soon do you need me?’

‘Now would be good.’

Clarke hadn’t wasted any time in obtaining a warrant. Once it was known that the body found in Villiers’ clothes wasn’t him, there was ample justification for a full search of his property. First thing that morning, the police had arrived at the big house on the mouth of the estuary, and a cadaver dog had found what looked very much like a grave hidden away in a secluded part of the grounds.