Martin Edwards - The Cipher Garden

While he waited, he tried Hannah’s number again. Her disembodied voice once more invited him to leave a message; once more he decided not to bother. He fancied setting up another meeting with her to reveal the ingenuity of his theory. If she doused it with cold water, he wouldn’t care. What he wanted most was a fresh excuse to share her company.

He was asking himself what this said about his relationship with Miranda when the last cow trudged through the gate and the boy waved his thanks. Daniel returned his smile. A chance to put his foot down and dodge a mystery even more awkward than Warren Howe’s murder.

‘Did Roz know about you and Chris?’

‘If she did, she never dropped a hint.’

‘And when he left home?’

‘I kept my mouth shut.’ Nick bowed his head. ‘To this day, I’m not sure if that was right or wrong. I didn’t have a clue what had happened to him. There was no reason to believe his past had any bearing on his disappearance. Of course, I couldn’t help wondering. Had he picked someone up in a park or public toilet and been bashed over the head for his pains? Anything was possible. But there was no body. So I hoped against hope that he would come home to Keepsake Cottage.’

‘Which he did.’

‘Eventually. I must say I didn’t buy his explanation for going AWOL. I mean, his music was important to him, and the poor response to his CD must have been disheartening. But vanishing from sight seemed like a massive over-reaction, even if he’d had a nervous breakdown.’

‘Did you talk to him?’

‘Not officially. I wasn’t supposed to discuss the Howe murder with him, but keeping to the rules didn’t prove difficult. Ten days after he came back, he agreed to go out with me for a couple of beers. We went to a pub in Barrow where neither of us were likely to be recognised. Before he’d downed his first half pint of Stella, he was spilling the beans. Poor bastard, he was desperate to talk to someone who might understand.’

‘Which you did?’

Nick nodded. ‘He told me he’d fallen in love for the first time in his life.’

Hannah opened her eyes wide. ‘With?’

‘Oliver Cox’s predecessor as chef at The Heights. A Scots lad called Jason Goddard, utterly gorgeous if Chris was to be believed. Probably he wasn’t, given that love is blind. And Chris was head over heels, that was for sure. He was willing to give up everything for this kid, he just couldn’t contemplate losing him. It was a mid-life crisis, not really love at all. Wild infatuation would be nearer the mark. There was only one snag.’

‘Don’t tell me,’ Hannah groaned. ‘The devotion wasn’t reciprocated.’

‘Life’s so unfair. Jason was notoriously camp and promiscuous. I heard all this long before I had any idea that Chris had fallen for him. My take is, Jason led Chris on and Chris was more than willing to be led. The trouble was that Jason fancied a bit of fun, not a lifelong union. When Chris started getting heavy and spoke about leaving Roz so the two of them could be together, Jason couldn’t handle it and took fright. There was nothing tying him to the Lake District, so he ran off to London. What he didn’t bargain for was Chris following him.’

‘And the nervous breakdown?’

‘He told the truth about that. Down in London, everything became messy. Chris haunting Jason’s footsteps, Jason threatening to sue Chris for harassment. In the end, Jason lost his cool and resorted to more direct methods. He arranged for a couple of thugs to beat Chris up.’

‘On the day Warren Howe was murdered in his garden back home?’ Hannah shook her head at the irony of it. ‘Because of the attack, no one had a chance of proving he was guilty of murder. Talk about a blessing in disguise.’

Roz Gleave seemed calmer today. Was this because Chris wasn’t around? He had left an hour earlier, she said, on his way to Lancaster to negotiate with the manager of a folk club. She cast a wary glance at the darkening sky as she led Daniel round the back of Keepsake Cottage, and suggested they make the most of the weather before they were drenched by the thunderstorm the Met Office had threatened. They sat on opposite sides of the teak table at the rear of the house, looking up towards the terrace where Warren Howe had been cut down.

‘Sorry I was so abrupt last time we met. We weren’t in the mood to be hospitable after the terrible news about poor Kirsty. Now, if you don’t mind, I can only spare you ten minutes. I’m expecting a friend to call round for a cup of tea and a chat.’

‘Ten minutes is all I ask.’

‘Were your ears burning yesterday? I was talking about you to Marc Amos. He sang your praises; tells me you’re a valued customer.’

‘Marc’s a friend of yours?’

‘We scarcely know each other. Both of us make a living from books, but in different parts of the market. He sells them second hand; I’m rather keen to make a profit the first time my publications leave the shelves. We don’t get a percentage the second time around. I met Hannah, his partner, the other day. Young for a chief inspector, I thought. Or perhaps that just shows my own advancing years.’

‘It was Marc who told me about the book by Eleanor Sawtell.’

‘So I gather. Any progress with your garden mystery?’

‘A little.’

She looked him in the eye. ‘Marc mentioned you were involved with one of his partner’s cases not so long ago.’

‘Hannah heads the county’s cold case team. I like to think there’s a parallel between her work and historical research. Not sure I’ve persuaded her, mind.’

‘And you were at the airfield when Kirsty died.’

‘I’d met her at the restaurant the previous day.’

‘Quite a coincidence.’

Time to break cover, Daniel decided. ‘Not really, Roz. Truth is, I’m incurably inquisitive. So I can’t help being intrigued by what I’ve heard about the murder of Warren Howe.’

The temperature was plunging with every word he uttered. She pursed her lips. ‘I see.’

‘Must be painful for you, having the whole business resurrected after all these years.’

‘We could do without it. That was a difficult time for Chris and me.’

‘All the more so because Warren was a former boyfriend?’

‘We went out a few times as kids,’ she snapped. ‘Nothing more. It was buried in the past, it didn’t mean a thing. I was sorry he died such a brutal death, but candidly, I was sorrier still that it happened here. I won’t pretend that I spent much time in mourning. Warren wasn’t a nice man. Not like his daughter. Poor Kirsty.’

‘One thing I’ve learned about history is that things we believed were buried in the past can reach out and poke us in the eye today.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Your relationship with Warren. I hate to be intrusive, but I’ve found out that Oliver Cox is adopted. He told my partner, Miranda, and I couldn’t help wondering…’

Roz Gleave’s face contorted with dismay, bordering on disbelief. ‘He discussed his past with someone he hardly knew?’

‘She’s adopted as well. She was confiding in him.’

‘My God, he always said he would never…’

‘She’s a journalist. Very accomplished at worming information out of people. I’m sure when Oliver told her a little about his own past, he didn’t mean to cause any embarrassment.’

‘Meaning what?’

Daniel said softly, ‘Meaning that I’m sure he didn’t intend anyone to suspect that you might be his mother.’

She put a hand to her mouth and he thought she was going to faint. But when she spoke, it wasn’t to admit that he’d seen through to the truth.

‘Have you taken leave of your senses?’

He’d expected outrage or evasion. Not amazement. It felt like being hosed with cold water. ‘You’re denying it?’