Martin Edwards - The Coffin Trail

‘Owner of one of the best bookshops north of Manchester.’

‘So he tells me,’ she said with a crooked smile.

‘Small world, huh?’

‘That’s the Lakes for you. Everyone is connected to everyone else.’

‘Sort of appealing.’

‘Some people find it suffocating.’

‘Even with all the hills and meres and open spaces?’

‘Sure. I love the beauty of the Lakes, same as you or any other tourist. But even here, people lie and cheat and commit crimes, same as everywhere else.’

Same as you or any other tourist. He cringed inwardly. Her instinct was to bracket him with the sightseers who clogged the lanes and car parks around Bowness and Grasmere.

‘Did Marc tell you, he and I bumped into each other yesterday?’

‘Uh-huh. I gather you were up on Priest Edge by the Sacrifice Stone. Where Gabrielle Anders’ body was found.’

‘My first time there since that family holiday.’

She said softly, ‘I confess, I’m intrigued. As I understand it, you’ve thrown up your home and your career to come and live in this neck of the woods. It may not seem that far from the madding crowd if you’ve ever been stuck in a traffic jam on the way to Windermere, but it’s a different world from Oxford and Television Centre.’

‘What’s so strange? There’s nowhere more beautiful in England. For once the tourist brochures aren’t a pack of lies. Even though I don’t believe what I was told, that it rains less here than in Devon.’

‘It’s a fact. Even so, they say if you can see High Gill through the mist, it’s going to rain. If you can’t, it’s raining already. Tell me this, though. Of all the properties on the estate agents’ books, how did you happen to end up with Tarn Cottage?’

‘It’s a long story.’

She pulled back the leather sleeve and glanced at her watch. ‘You have ten minutes.’

‘And there I was, thinking I’d be asking the questions. Finding out more about him.’

‘Are you saying you came up here just to explore your past?’

‘No it was more a matter of getting away from the present. For Miranda, as well as me.’

‘Miranda’s your wife?’

‘My partner. She’s a journalist.’

‘So you’re a media couple,’ she said lightly.

‘No,’ he said, more vehemently than he’d intended. ‘Absolutely not. From the moment we got together, one of the things we had in common was that we both needed a change in our lives. She’d split up with her boyfriend and was having problems at work. I’d stopped enjoying teaching and television is a treadmill. Of course, I won’t earn as much based here, but money isn’t everything.’

‘In my experience,’ she said drily, ‘people who have no money never say that.’

‘Ouch. Then let’s just say, I was sick of academic in-fighting. And there was something else. My ex-girlfriend had died and suddenly my old way of life had too many sour memories.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘In an odd kind of way, I wanted some good to come out of Aimee’s death. I guess that at one time or another in our lives, all of us have the urge to make a new beginning.’

She knitted her brow. ‘You reckon?’

‘Yes,’ he said gently, ‘I reckon. Why, have you never found that?’

‘Marc and I have been together a long time. We’re set in our ways, soon we’ll be like Darby and Joan.’ For a moment she seemed to be talking to herself rather than to him. Forcing a smile, she added, ‘Also, we care about our jobs. I can’t imagine life outside the police and Marc is crazy about books. Your situation was obviously different.’

‘Miranda and I were fortunate. Not everyone has the opportunity to start again, but I suppose that sometimes it’s a mistake to surrender to the temptation.’

‘Like Ben?’

‘We weren’t abandoning anyone, that’s the difference. We saw a way out. So we took it.’

She gave a brisk nod, as if to say: that’s enough small talk. ‘All right, then, the Gabrielle Anders case. Have you been talking to people about the murder since you moved to Tarn Cottage?’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘Is it true, have you been making waves?’

He noticed that she’d dodged his question by asking another. ‘You could say so. I’m an incurable nosey parker. There are lots of loose ends connected with the case, don’t you agree?’

‘Occupational hazard.’

‘Isn’t that rather defeatist?’

‘My job isn’t an academic exercise,’ she snapped.

‘Touche.’ For the first time, he saw a spark of temper in her eyes. She wasn’t quite as controlled as she wanted him to believe. It gave him a buzz that he’d managed to pierce her defences, if only for an instant. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. Too many years in an ivory tower, I guess.’

‘Police work isn’t as neat as a thesis, nicely typed and bound. It’s all about the messiness of reality. We don’t have endless time to toss around theories or ponder over psychological whys and wherefores.’

‘You’re not immune from curiosity, though? Barrie Gilpin was an oddity, but why would he kill Gabrielle?’

Hannah’s mouth became a tight line. ‘Why does any man commit an act of violence? Why does a teenager rape a defenceless old woman, or a father suffocate his kids? Barrie was a voyeur and he’d taken a fancy to Gabrielle. Who knows what may have happened between them? We can’t make up the evidence to fit our preconceived ideas. Or preferences. Don’t historians base their work on hard facts, too?’

‘With some of my former colleagues, you might be surprised. But you’re right. Historical research isn’t intuition, it’s detection.’

‘I heard you say that on the telly, so it must be true,’ she mocked. ‘All I can say is that the original investigation turned up nothing that exonerated Barrie Gilpin. Not a thing.’

‘Guilty till proved innocent, then?’

‘I didn’t say that.’ She sighed. ‘Listen, I didn’t mean to be glib about the loose ends after Barrie’s body was found. They bothered me, just as they bothered your father.’

‘He knew the real Barrie. He’d played with him, even performed a few magic tricks, much to old Ma Gilpin’s disapproval. I can’t believe he saw Barrie as a murderer. So — why not review the old file?’

She nibbled at her lower lip. ‘All right, I’ll tell you something. In strict confidence, okay?’

‘I’ll respect it.’

‘If you’re your father’s son, I’m sure you will. Mind you, this won’t stay confidential for long. If I know the Lakes and the way people talk, it’ll be common knowledge by this time tomorrow. The Gabrielle Anders case is one of those we’re taking a second look at. Starting this afternoon, we’ll be talking to some of the people who gave statements, seeing whether memories can be jogged.’

‘That’s good news.’

‘I don’t suppose everyone we speak to will be quite so positive.’

‘But if it helps the truth to come out…’

‘Daniel,’ she interrupted. ‘Just be clear about this. One thing you learn in my job is that the truth is usually the last thing people want to emerge. Guilty or innocent, it doesn’t matter. Everyone has something to hide.’

‘Everyone?’

For a moment he thought she was about to say something else, but instead she stood up and brushed droplets of rain from her coat. ‘I’d better go.’

He scrambled to his feet. ‘Thanks for your time. I appreciate it.’

She offered her hand. Her flesh was cold. As they shook, another question struck him.

‘Hannah.’ Using her first name felt strangely intimate. ‘Why did you ask if I’d been making waves?’

She opened her mouth and he thought: she’s about to say no particular reason and it will be a lie. This woman doesn’t ask questions without reason.