Хилари Боннер - No Reason To Die

Karen had been surprised and had felt let down. After all, if it hadn’t been for Kelly’s various claims and accusations, not to mention his constant pushing, there quite probably would never have been a police investigation in the first place. It was all so infuriating. She remained absolutely convinced that Parker-Brown was up to his neck in some kind of nasty, and thoroughly sinister, conspiracy, but, to her immense irritation, she was no closer than she had been six months ago to finding out exactly what. And the way in which Kelly had backed down had not helped at all.

She’d had little choice ultimately but to accept the somewhat simplistic explanation he had later given her, which was that, upon reflection, he really couldn’t be absolutely sure that Parker-Brown had been one of the two men in The Wild Dog. And that he preferred to keep silent, rather than make a mistake in court on something so vital.

Karen had been unconvinced, and had commented that it was not really like him to suddenly have doubts about something he had at first seemed so certain of. Kelly had merely shrugged. Privately, Karen later came to the conclusion that Kelly must have been frightened off, that he didn’t want to risk further involvement, and she couldn’t entirely blame him for that. He had thought he was going to be murdered, after all. None the less, that wasn’t like him, either. It was totally out of character for John Kelly to run scared, even when he had good reason to be.

The separate investigation into the attack on Kelly at Babbacombe beach had proved no more successful than the Hangridge investigation. The team had made no progress at all in finding out who had attacked Kelly. As he had predicted, there seemed to be no evidence except the fragments of flesh they had managed to extract from his teeth, but even they were no help unless there was a suspect with whom to compare the DNA. And there was no suspect. Neither had it even been possible to conclusively link the attack on Kelly with the Hangridge affair. His mystery caller’s claim that he could provide information on the Hangridge deaths strongly suggested such a link, but there was no proof. The attacker could have been someone with an unconnected grudge against Kelly.

Karen was extremely fed up and disappointed. It was late afternoon, almost 5.30. She thought she might try to find an excuse to go home early for once. She fancied curling up on the sofa with Sophie, her cat, and having a good sulk. Along with several large gin and tonics. There seemed little more that she could do.

Then, just as she had started to clear her desk, the door to her office burst open and in bounced the normally morose DS Chris Tompkins, his face unusually animated.

‘They’ve done it, boss, they’ve bloody done it,’ he cried, waving a thin sheaf of A4 paper at her. ‘The Hangridge families, they never gave up, did they? They’ve done it, boss. There’s going to be a public inquiry, after all. It’s just been announced.’

Karen’s spirits immediately lifted. There was just a chance that her ongoing police investigation, even if it had not been a very successful one, may also have played a part.

‘That’s great news, Chris,’ she said.

‘Isn’t it?’ the normally long-faced detective continued, with unaccustomed enthusiasm.

The relatives of the dead soldiers, led quite splendidly by a reborn Margaret Slade, had campaigned with tireless energy for a full public inquiry into the deaths of their loved ones. Karen knew that they’d gained the active support of more than a hundred Members of Parliament, and their various demonstrations — staged at Parliament, at the Ministry of Defence, and with relentless regularity outside Hangridge itself — had ensured that they’d rarely been off the front pages of the national press throughout the last six months.

Now it seemed that the British establishment had finally caved in. A victory for the people, thought Karen. The families would be absolutely delighted. She just hoped the inquiry proved to be genuinely independent, that was all.

‘There’s more, boss,’ continued Tompkins. ‘The Standing Orders to the Land Army are going to be changed to ensure that nothing like Hangridge could ever happen again. It’s all in a statement from the MoD, that’s just come through on email from the chief constable’s office.’

He slapped the sheaf of paper he had been waving onto her desk. Karen picked it up eagerly. In future, a civilian police investigation into all sudden non-combat deaths within the military would be standard practice, and a new protocol was about to be issued to UK police forces to ensure they properly investigated all deaths on army bases, rather than the previously accepted practice of only becoming directly involved in obvious cases of murder. In addition, both the Royal Military Police and military base commanders would be banned from taking an active part in investigations into suspicious deaths, except to act as witnesses.

Karen read the statement again, more slowly, after Tompkins, still bouncing, had left her office. Then she continued to clear her desk. She would still leave early, but she no longer wanted to go home to curl up with Sophie. No. Her mood had changed dramatically. On an impulse, she decided she would drive round to Kelly’s house to share the good news with him. She understood that the contents of the MoD statement were not public knowledge yet, and she was sure Kelly would be as pleased as she was. After all, he must surely be unhappy with the lack of progress so far in the police investigation, just as she was, and also with his own failure to deliver, Karen suspected.

She had barely seen Kelly in the last six months, except briefly at Connelly’s inquest when he had seemed like a changed man. And she had barely heard from him either, which was highly unusual. She had wondered once or twice whether he was still embarrassed by the incident in her flat when they had kissed, although her own embarrassment had faded considerably with the passage of time, and, as ever, had been overtaken by a succession of other anxieties, mostly concerning her work. In any case, instinct told her that it was something else.

She arrived at Kelly’s house just after six. He opened the front door straight away, and as he led her into the living room, she at once blurted out her news.

‘So, the police investigation may be continuing to draw a blank, but this is a real result, Kelly,’ she enthused. ‘The families have got their public inquiry, and, regardless of whatever that produces, there’s going to be a new directive to the civilian police which will hopefully ensure that nothing like Hangridge will ever happen again.’

‘Great,’ said Kelly. But Karen noticed that he wasn’t smiling and there was little enthusiasm in his voice.

‘I should say so,’ she said.

He smiled wanly. She studied him carefully. He had lost a lot of weight, but that rather suited him. His paunch was gone for a start. He didn’t look ill exactly, just weary. He seemed totally devoid of his usual energy.

‘Kelly, is something wrong?’ she asked. ‘You really pulled back from this one, didn’t you? And that’s not like you at all.’

‘Yes, well, maybe I got scared. I did think I was going to get killed.’

‘I know.’ Karen ventured to put into words her thoughts on the way Kelly had backed down at Alan Connelly’s inquest. ‘That’s what I reckoned it must have been. But it’s not like you to be scared, Kelly. In fact, I have never known you to be frightened of anything. You usually just get all the more pigheaded and determined.’

Kelly smiled more easily at that.

‘Perhaps it’s about getting older,’ he said. ‘You scare easier as you get older.’

‘Perhaps,’ said Karen, still staring at him. His eyes looked tired and his hair was considerably thinner than when she had last seen him. She considered again what he had said — you scare easier when you get older. Perhaps it really was as simple as that.