Simon Beckett - The Restless Dead

‘He could, but he’d find lean pickings during winter,’ Lundy said. ‘How’d he survive all this time? The doctor who checked him out said he was suffering from malnutrition, but didn’t think it was long term. Plus we found empty food tins scattered about his house, so where did they come from?’

I was still berating myself for not realizing Edgar was malnourished. I’d seen how thin he was; I should have noticed the signs. ‘Why would Villiers take him food?’

‘Seems out of character, I know, but Holloway’s not likely to have gone shopping for himself. Maybe Villiers took Edgar a few cans to keep him happy while he used his house to stash things like the shotgun. Ideal place when you think about it. Middle of nowhere, nobody to see you come and go, and nobody living there who’s likely to make a fuss.’

That much made sense. And it would explain why Villiers had gone into the house while Stacey Coker was there. Lundy finished his biscuit and washed it down with a drink of tea.

‘Of course, there’s one thing wrong with that theory,’ he said, setting down his cup. ‘Why would someone like Leo Villiers even know Holloway existed, let alone know where he lived? Wealthy man like that, access to serious money and resources, what’s he doing grubbing about in some recluse’s hovel? Come to that, why is he still here ? Why hasn’t he left the country or buggered off somewhere miles away, where he wouldn’t be recognized?’

‘I don’t know. Why?’

‘I haven’t a bloody clue.’ Lundy took another chocolate biscuit and snapped it in half. ‘It wasn’t a rhetorical question, I’ve really no idea. And that niggles me. Makes me think we’re coming at this from the wrong direction. You know those optical tricks, where things are arranged to look a certain way from a specific angle? It’s all about perspective, and I can’t shake the feeling that ours is wrong. We’re looking at this the wrong way.’

He’d continued breaking the biscuit as he spoke, absently snapping it into smaller pieces he let drop on to the plate. His manner had changed, and I found myself growing suddenly wary.

‘Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?’ I asked.

He smiled and put the remaining pieces of biscuit down. ‘Sort of,’ he said, wiping his fingers. ‘I’m poking more holes in my own theory, but it occurred to me the one body we still haven’t found is Emma Derby’s. She’s at the centre of all this, so if it is her ex-boyfriend’s body we found on the barbed wire, how come we didn’t find hers there as well?’

That had been bothering me too. I had a bad idea I knew where this was leading. ‘If there’d been two bodies there we’d have known right away it wasn’t a boating accident. And we don’t know for sure the one we found was Mark Chapel’s.’

‘True,’ he conceded. ‘But if it does turn out to be him it’s going to raise awkward questions for some people. Leo Villiers might be the main suspect at the moment, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be others. The fact is, if Emma Derby’s former boyfriend turns up dead we’re going to have to take another look at her husband.’

‘I thought you said Trask had an alibi? Didn’t you clear him yourselves?’

‘We did, and he does. But just because he’s in the clear for his wife doesn’t mean he is for her boyfriend as well. Not this one, anyway. At the very least we’re going to have to interview him all over again. His son too, probably.’

Christ. As if the tensions in Creek House weren’t bad enough. ‘Why are you telling me?’

Lundy looked at me reprovingly over his glasses. ‘I’m not daft. I know you’re friendly with Rachel Derby.’

‘I’m not going to compromise the inquiry, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘Calm down, I’m not saying that. Good luck to you. I’ve got a lot of time for her. She could have stayed in Australia instead of coming over here to help a family she barely knew. Not many people would step up like she has.’

‘Then what are you saying?’ I asked, less heatedly.

‘Just that it’s one thing getting involved with a victim’s family. A suspect’s is something else. I’m not saying Trask is one yet, but that could change pretty quickly if it turns out to be Mark Chapel’s body in the mortuary.’ Lundy regarded me over the top of his glasses. ‘If that happens you’re going to find yourself with a potential conflict of interest. For the family’s sake as well as your own, you might want to think about maintaining a bit of distance until this blows over. At the very least you need to find alternative lodgings. Staying at a property owned by a potential suspect... I don’t have to tell you how that could look.’

He didn’t. Much as I hated to admit it, Lundy was right. I felt angry, but more at myself for not seeing this coming.

‘It’s too late for me to find anywhere else tonight, but I’ll go back to London tomorrow,’ I said, a bitter taste in my mouth.

The drive to the mortuary would take longer, but there wasn’t much left for me to do there anyway. I couldn’t pretend there was a good reason for me to stay in the Backwaters any more. Not because of the case, anyway.

Lundy nodded, embarrassed now he’d spelled out the situation. It was a relief for both of us when we heard someone opening the front door.

‘Sounds like them.’ He straightened, hurriedly popping a last piece of biscuit into his mouth. He gave me a wink. ‘Don’t tell my wife.’

He was twisting the packet shut when the kitchen door opened and a small whirlwind burst in.

‘Granddad, Gran says I can—’

The little girl broke off when she saw me. Lundy’s face had split into a huge smile. ‘There she is! How’s my big girl?’

His granddaughter smiled but cast glances at me, suddenly shy. She had a pretty elfin face under a wild tangle of hair. Still beaming, Lundy picked her up and planted a kiss on her cheek before plonking her down on his knee.

‘Kelly, this is Dr Hunter. He works with Granddad. Aren’t you going to say hello?’

The girl lolled her head against him, looking at me from under long eyelashes. ‘Hello.’

‘She’s not normally this quiet,’ Lundy said, giving her a squeeze. The police officer had been replaced by a doting grandfather. ‘We normally have to hand out earplugs.’

‘Make the most,’ his wife said, bustling in with a rain-spattered coat and shopping bags. She was an attractive woman, with short blond hair and a no-nonsense attitude. ‘God, this weather! Sun one minute and rain the next. And they’re forecasting storms tomorrow. You must be Dr Hunter?’

She gave me a smile as she took off her damp coat. ‘David,’ I said, getting to my feet to help with the shopping bags. Lundy had done the same, one burly arm still holding his granddaughter. His wife waved us both away.

‘Thanks, I can manage. I’m Sandra. Pleased to meet you.’

‘Dr Hunter came in for a cuppa after bringing me from the hospital,’ Lundy told her, sitting down again.

‘I expect he ate all the chocolate biscuits, as well,’ she said, raising an eyebrow at the packet on the table.

Lundy looked affronted. ‘Well, it seemed rude to stop him.’

‘See what I have to put up with?’ His wife’s smile didn’t hide her concern as she spoke again to her husband. ‘How did it go?’

‘Oh, fine.’

She gave a nod, and I knew the subject was closed until they were alone. ‘Are you going to stay and eat with us, David? You’d be very welcome,’ she asked, unpacking the bags.

‘Thanks, but I was just about to leave.’ I should get out of their way, and I needed time to think anyway. I turned to Lundy. ‘Thanks for the tea. And the biscuits.’