Martin Edwards - The Hanging Wood

‘And Aslan Sheikh?’

‘Orla didn’t tell him the whole story, as I understand it, but she let enough slip for him to work out that Mike had something to hide. Again, I can only guess at his reaction. I suspect he was more interested in Mike’s money than in a family reunion.’

‘You think Aslan tried to blackmail his father, and Mike’s response was to hit him over the head and throw him in a tank of slurry?’

‘How can I know what to think, Daniel?’ The mask splintered, and she gave him an imploring look. ‘All I know is that there have been too many deaths. It really has to end.’

‘And how do you expect it to end?’ he asked softly.

Was that a tear in her eye, or simply another splash of rain?

‘I dread to think,’ she whispered. ‘I dread to think.’

His throat constricted. ‘By Mike Hinds … doing the decent thing for once in his life?’

She stared at the ground. ‘Gareth doesn’t think Mike can take any more. He’s urged him to make a clean breast of everything, to set the record straight. But I don’t know if he’s up to that.’

The rain was spattering on the leaves above them. Soon they would be drenched.

‘He has no choice.’

‘I hate to say it, Daniel, but you’re wrong.’ Her voice was no more than a whisper. ‘Things have gone too far.’

‘Mario, where are you?’

‘In the incident room. What’s up, Hannah?’

‘I’m on my way to Keswick.’ She was talking hands-free as she sped along the main road from Windermere, only a couple of miles from Ambleside. ‘I have a witness who saw someone lurking around Lane End Farm, the afternoon Orla Payne died. You need to get over there. I’ll tag along, if it’s OK by you.’

‘Be my guest, it’s always good to work with you. But what’s the hurry?’

‘Enough people have died already. We don’t want any more bodies on our hands.’

Mario’s voice was taut. ‘You think the murderer might kill … someone else?’

‘Or himself,’ she said.

Daniel and Fleur parted at the bridge. She said she wanted to go back to the Hall, and check that the maintenance work was on schedule. He suspected it was an excuse. She wanted time to herself, and privacy.

The rain whipped him as if he were a galley slave. He heard a rumble of thunder. Time to move fast, and get away from the trees during the storm. But something made him linger on the bridge’s parapet, watching Fleur’s retreating back as she hurried towards her ancestral home.

There was no doubting her horror at everything that had occurred to the children of Michael Hinds. No doubting, either, that she was afraid. But afraid of Hinds topping himself? He wasn’t sure. If she was right, and the man had caused the deaths of all three of his children, it might seem the best way out.

He fished his mobile out of his pocket. Better speak to Hannah, and let her know everything Fleur had told him.

Fleur had become a tiny doll-like figure, blurred by the slanting rain as she scurried along towards the Hall’s front entrance. Oblivious to the downpour, he fastened his eyes on her again, wondering what thoughts were swimming round inside her head.

Wondering why the story she had spun sounded to his ears like one of Orla’s favourite fairy tales.

He couldn’t believe it.

‘God, is that the storm I can hear?’ Hannah asked. She was driving past Rydal Water, and it wasn’t pelting down yet, but the first flecks of water splashed on to her windscreen even as she spoke.

‘Yeah.’ Over the microphone, Daniel’s voice was muffled. ‘You’ve seen drowned rats less sodden than I am right now. Not sure I’ll ever feel dry again. But I needed to tell you what Fleur said.’

‘Thanks, but you need to find shelter fast. Not under the trees, too dangerous if lightning strikes. You could be killed.’

‘I’ll make a dash for it in a second. On your way to Keswick?’

‘Yes, no time to lose. Especially if what Fleur told you is true.’

‘But you don’t think it is?’

‘Do you?’

‘No.’

‘She’s found an answer for a lot of questions, hasn’t she?’ Hannah said. ‘But not all of them.’

‘Do you believe Mike Hinds is a murderer?’

‘Wish I knew.’

‘Come on, Hannah.’ Even as the rain lashed him, he found it impossible to contain his impatience. ‘We’ve found a witness who saw someone spying on Orla just before she climbed up the grain tower.’

‘Really? And do you have an ID?’

‘From the description,’ Hannah said slowly, ‘the man bears a strong resemblance to Gareth Madsen.’

‘I knew Ben Kind,’ Mario Pinardi said. ‘He was a bloody good copper.’

‘The best.’ Hannah took a swig of Diet Coke from a can. The incident room was as noisy as the Saturday market, and she had to raise her voice to make herself heard above the gabble of phone talk and the rattle of keyboards. ‘His son is no fool, either.’

‘So I hear.’

Mario dodged her eyes, and she guessed he’d heard gossip about her and Daniel. Every force brimmed with rumour and innuendo, and she was an easy target. People knew she and Marc were no longer living together, and no doubt her sex life was the subject of endless lascivious guesswork. If only they knew the truth. This last six months, she’d been as pure as any nun, for Christ’s sake.

‘Fleur Madsen didn’t convince Daniel that Hinds killed Aslan Sheikh.’

‘Suppose Gareth spun his sister-in-law a line …’

‘And covered his tracks by putting the blame on Hinds?’

‘Who was supposedly his bosom buddy, yes.’

Hannah clenched her fist. ‘It’s an absolute bugger. Bryan Madsen is pretty odious, but I rather liked Gareth. He’s not like Hinds.’

‘He’s a salesman, isn’t he? Maybe he can talk his way out of it.’

Mario bared his teeth in a fierce grin, but for all the show of resilience, his shoulders were rigid with nervous tension.

‘Sir!’ An admin assistant who was in the middle of a phone conversation shouted over from the other side of the room. Her face was bright with excitement as she gestured to Mario’s phone with her free hand. ‘You need to hear this. The caller is Mrs Birt. I’ll transfer her right now.’

He picked up the receiver and put on the loudspeaker. ‘DI Pinardi. Can I help you?’

‘I was just telling your colleague, I saw a photo in the newspaper of that poor girl who died, and I saw you were appealing for information.’

The woman was well spoken, but sounded breathless and apprehensive. A touch of nervousness was a good sign; this wasn’t someone likely to call the police on a whim.

‘Thanks so much for taking the time to help us.’

He did the PR stuff so well, Hannah thought. If only she’d been able to tease out Orla Payne’s story … no, better not go there.

‘I saw her, it was on the day she died. That very morning.’

‘Uh-huh?’

‘We have a caravan, you see. We’ve been going to Madsen’s for six years, ever since the children were young.’

‘And you saw Orla Payne?’

‘Yes, I go out jogging each morning before breakfast. Trying to lose a few pounds, you know?’

‘I do know, Mrs Birt.’ The woman must think Mario was so pleasant, so unhurried. Surely she would be put at ease and tell them what she knew? ‘Now, what exactly did you see?’

‘This was near the new bridge that leads to the old Hall. They’ve done the area up, you know. It’s still cordoned off, but I go round the edge. It’s quiet there, and I like it best when there aren’t too many people around.’

‘I understand.’

‘I caught sight of the young woman. She was crying. I don’t know why she was distressed, but I thought she must be someone who worked at the holiday park, and perhaps had done something wrong. I changed my course, to keep out of their way. I’m sure they didn’t spot me, they were too wrapped up in their conversation.’