Mark Pearson - The Killing Season

‘You got any electricity in your house, or do you just prefer dressing in the dark?’ I asked her.

‘What are you on about?’

‘Just wondering why Amy never takes you to court with her.’

‘Are you taking the piss?’

I took a sip of my coffee and shook my head solemnly. ‘Not in my nature.’

‘That’s all right, then. So where are we on the case?’ she asked, plonking herself into the chair opposite my desk and fishing out a croissant.

I filled her in on some of the latest developments. It actually helped to talk things through. Speaking aloud about something sometimes crystallises thoughts in your mind. They may have been floating around in your subconscious but sharing them with someone else can bring about a breakthrough.

It didn’t in this case.

‘So the dentist still hasn’t shown up?’

‘Not so far as I know.’

‘So we can only conclude he has been taken by the killer.’

‘That would seem to be logical.’

‘So he is either dead, or is about to become so unless the police find him quick.’

‘That would be a fair conclusion also,’ I agreed.

‘What’s our next move then?’

‘Our?’

‘Well, Amy’s not here. I thought we could go detecting and stuff.’

‘What would you recommend?’

‘I’d recommend we go back to All Saints Church in Beeston Regis, have a word with the verger and the groundsman and see if Princess Prissy has been poking her nose round there, too — and when.’

‘Princess Prissy?’

‘Susan Dean. The homecoming queen of the secret policeman’s ball.’

‘And what would that tell us?’

‘That she knows more than she is letting on. That maybe she agreed with you all along. Or. .’ She shrugged.

‘Or?’

‘Something else.’

I had finished the croissant so I drained my coffee and stood up.

‘Get your coat, then.’

‘What coat?’

‘Is that all you’re wearing?’

‘Yeah. It’s not that cold. You is old is all, Stretch.’

She walked out the door and I followed, thinking it was about time I had a word with my personnel department.

The wind wasn’t whistling any more — it was roaring now. Blasting in from the North Sea, stripping whatever leaves remained on the trees and scattering them through the air like large, autumnal confetti.

I had contemplated walking to the church but had taken the car instead and was pretty glad that I had.

I parked and turned the engine off. The vicar at Upper Sheringham had called the man responsible for doing the maintenance work and had arranged for him to meet us there.

It didn’t take long for him to arrive. A tall, thin youth of about twenty-three came up and rapped on the window.

‘All right, Laura?’ he said.

‘Eddie,’ she replied, not too enthusiastically.

‘You know him?’ I asked her.

‘Yeah, went out on a date with him once. It didn’t work out.’

‘Height issues?’

‘Brain issues.’

I opened the car door and stepped out, almost blown back a step by the wind. Open land ran from behind the church straight to the cliff’s edge, and it didn’t have to run far.

I held my hand out to the young guy and he shook it as though he didn’t have much practice in such a ritual.

‘Jack Delaney.’

‘Eddie Peters.’

‘So did the rev tell you why I wanted to speak to you?’

‘Yeah, he said you wanted to talk about them two gravestones. Wright and Holdsworth, innit?’

‘That’s right. I wanted to know if you had noticed anything.’

‘I noticed they were smashed up pretty good.’

‘I meant before that.’

‘Wasn’t much to notice before then, was there?’

I was beginning to understand what Laura had meant.

‘He means did you see anyone? You daft pillock,’ she said, stepping in. ‘Anybody suspicious, anybody looking around at the graves.’

‘We get a lot of tourists here. They often come and look at the graves,’ he replied. ‘Me, I’d rather go down the arcade and play the slotties.’

‘You had a lot of tourists recently?’

‘Nah, it’s well out of season, isn’t it?’

‘What about the superintendent, Susan Dean? You seen her up here, Eddie?’ asked Laura.

‘Only when she was here questioning us all. Bit like what you’re doing, I guess. I reckon it’s goths myself.’

I sighed.

‘What?’ Laura voiced her exasperation.

‘Well, they’re into all that, aren’t they? Graveyards and cemeteries. Vampires. . all that shit.’

‘Well, you’ve been very helpful, Eddie,’ I said, lying as I fished my car keys out of my pocket.

‘Is that it, then?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, that’s it.’

‘What about the other one?’

‘What other one?’

‘The graveyard — another headstone’s been chiselled out. I noticed it while I was waiting for you guys to get here.’

‘Show me where it is, Eddie. Now!’ I said, keeping a tight grip on my urge to plant a boot up his skinny arse.

He led us round the side of the church to another grave that had been dug near to the low stone wall.

It wasn’t a well-tended grave, but again the marble was expensive and the masonry work was of a typically Victorian opulence and flourish. The name and inscription had all been hacked out of the marble by some crude tool. Most likely a chisel. Some of the gouges were deep so considerable force had been used to deface the stonework.

‘Do you know whose stone this is, Eddie?’

The youth shrugged. ‘No, I don’t read them. Just push the mower round between them now and again. The vicar would know but he isn’t here.’

‘I know.’

‘Is the church open?’

‘It can be. I’ve got the keys.’

‘Come on, then, you muppet!’ said Laura, propelling him towards the church doors.

He finally managed to get the large oak doors open, I went through and up to the small office door but it too was locked. ‘Have you got the key?’ I asked and he shook his head.

‘Don’t worry, I brought my own.’ I raised my boot and kicked the door hard, twice. At the second kick the lock splintered, the door swung open and I went over to the filing cabinet, pulling out the plot-number schematic and the log of names. It took me a moment or two to locate the name of the vandalised grave’s occupant.

I felt the world tilt on its axis as I read what it was.

Jeremy Walker. Kate’s grandfather.

Kate was at home with the baby that morning. Siobhan was at school. I pulled out my mobile phone and pushed the speed-dial button.

‘Jack — how’s it going, me big leprechaun?’ she answered breezily.

‘I haven’t got time to explain now, but I want you to lock all the doors and don’t open them for anybody. Even if you know who they are. Just stay there until I can get there.’

‘What’s up?’

‘Just do it, Kate. I’ll be home with you as quick as I can.’

Laura and I ran back to the car. I switched the engine on and sped down the hill, leaving a shower of gravel spraying back towards the very puzzled groundsman who was watching us go.

As I came back into Sheringham the traffic lights were just turning red. I leaned hard on my horn, overtook three cars who had pulled up at the lights and headed towards the traffic that was about to be oncoming. I got a few angry honks in reply but hardly heard them.

‘Jesus Christ, Jack,’ said Laura. ‘Are you trying to get us killed?’

I ignored her and moments later I was pulling into Siobhan’s junior school. I flashed my badge and was led to her classroom. Her teacher was a bit disgruntled by my sudden appearance but I didn’t have enough time for niceties or explanations. Just said that it was an emergency and brought a far from unwilling Siobhan back to the car with me. Laura had climbed in the back to sit with her and I was back at our house minutes later.