A Deadly Thaw (16 page)

‘Anna asked about you.’

Sadler rolled his eyes at his sister. ‘I’ve told you not to bother trying to set me up with anyone. I’m capable of finding my own girlfriend.’

‘Are you, Francis? I’m not so sure about that. You seem to like the married types.’

‘That was only one girlfriend.’

‘One is enough. Try to find someone who’s at least single this time.’

‘Like Anna.’

‘Like Anna,’ echoed his sister. ‘Didn’t you like her even a little bit?’

Sadler stretched his feet out in front of him and kicked off his shoes. ‘She didn’t like the fact that I was a policeman.’

‘You’re kidding. She’s a solicitor, for God’s sake. I’m sure that’s your imagination.’

‘You think I can’t read people’s reactions to my job? Anna is a very nice girl, who, when she heard what I did for a living, for a moment looked alarmed.’

Camilla bent down, picked up his shoes and moved them to the side of the room. ‘Sorry. Force of habit, clearing up after two little boys.’ She plopped herself down next to him. ‘Funny that. Maybe I should mention it in future. I have a very attractive brother. Single, but he’s a policeman. Does that put you off?’

Sadler put his arm around his sister. ‘Probably a good idea. Put off the potential criminals.’

His sister looked up at him. ‘You don’t mean Anna?’

‘Probably not. She might have had a bad experience with the police. Not everyone is as nice as me.’

Camilla smiled. ‘You are nice and you’re always welcome here. You don’t need an invitation.’

‘I know. It’s just, once a case starts . . .’

‘. . . you become the local celebrity. I do know. Finding the body of a long-dead man at Hale’s End.’

Sadler made a face. ‘It gave me the creeps, to be honest.’

‘I’m not surprised. Horrible place.’

‘I know. What’s worse, I used to go there as a teenager. Larking about.’

‘Me too.’

Sadler turned to her in surprise. She smirked. ‘Different type of larking, I suspect. My then boyfriend, Graham, used to drive me down there. You really don’t want to know any more.’

‘You’re right. I don’t.’

He thought back to the dark copse. ‘I don’t think it’s used for that kind of stuff any more. You couldn’t get a car near the place. The old track is pretty overgrown.’

Camilla glanced up at the clock. ‘The kids will be back from Scouts in a minute. Thank God those days are over. Best thing about being married, take it from me. No more snogging in cars.’

‘You don’t miss it?’

She grimaced. ‘I suspect it’s different for men.’

‘How’s the case going?’ Joanne had to raise her voice to be heard over the music that was playing a fraction too loud for normal conversation. They were waiting in the restaurant for their friends to arrive, a couple who were habitually late for any evening out. Palmer had once made the mistake of showing his irritation at their tardiness, and he was now convinced that they did it on purpose. He looked at his watch. ‘It’s going okay, I suppose.’

‘Not solved it yet, then?’ She smirked at him across the table.

‘Come on, Joanne. You know it’s not that straightforward.’ He signalled to the waiter. ‘I’m ordering some wine. God knows when those two will turn up.’

‘Not for me. I’ll have sparkling water.’

‘Come on, Jo. You’re not pregnant yet.’ It was the wrong thing to say. At the sight of her face, he reached across the table. ‘Sorry. But stop worrying. A glass of wine will do you good. I’ll order a Chablis. Your favourite.’

As the waiter opened the bottle of wine, Palmer noticed him giving Joanne a sidelong glance. She was wearing a black Grecian-style dress with flat sandals, even though she’d complained in the car that her feet were freezing. The draping fabric emphasised her body’s curves, and he was amused to see that she was enjoying the waiter’s attention.

After the man departed, he commented, ‘You’ve got an admirer.’

‘Not my type. I prefer handsome policemen.’

‘Got anyone in mind?’

She ignored the wine and picked up her water glass. ‘Anyway, I’m not the only one with an admirer.’ She gave him a knowing glance.

‘Who? Me?’

‘When I saw your colleague Connie in the street the other day, she was very cagey about your movements. Very protective towards you.’

‘Connie? Don’t start this again. Anyway, if I was working, why should she say where I was?’

Joanne put her glass down with a bang causing the water to slop over the sides. ‘Don’t get uppity. I’m just saying, I think you’ve got an admirer too.’

Palmer rolled his eyes and picked up the menu. ‘Connie? I really don’t think so.’

Sadler walked back on foot from his sister’s house. The nights still had the hint of winter on them. Ridiculous in May, but there you were. Derbyshire Peak District danced to its own tune. To ward off the chill, he increased his pace through the Bampton gloom and began to enjoy the spurt of adrenalin. At first, all he could hear were his footsteps tapping on the pavement.

A woman, high-heeled shoes in her hand and limping slightly, looked in alarm as he approached. He crossed over to the other side of the street to reassure her and looked at his watch. Just gone eleven. Which meant kicking-out time at Bampton’s pubs, most of which still kept to the old opening times.

Sure enough, as he approached the town centre, sounds of laughter and shouts of exuberance pierced the air. There weren’t many of them huddled together, fifteen in total he thought, but enough to make him quicken his pace and keep his head down. A patrol car was parked in one of the delivery bays outside a wine shop. Sadler squinted but didn’t recognise the figures inside. They took no notice of him, intent on watching the group for a sudden eruption of violence.

As he left the central square, the town fell silent again, and there was no one to disturb Sadler’s reverie. At the end of the road, he had two choices. Turn right, and he would pass Connie’s flat in the converted mill and walk along the canal path towards his small terraced house. If he took the road on the left, this would lead him directly past Providence Villa, where Kat Gray lived. Neither route appealed. On balance though, he thought Connie would show more displeasure if she happened to bump into him. He turned left.

The streetlights were already off by the time he made his way down Waverley Road, and the only light there was leaked out of the windows of the houses he passed. Peering up, Sadler could see that some of the larger properties had been turned into flats. Small kitchens filled what had once been box rooms, making a strange juxtaposition of living arrangements. The final house in the row, Providence Villa, was in complete darkness. It was around half eleven. Kat Gray must have gone to bed.

To the right of him was Heanor Park, a kidney-shaped recreation ground that still had a touch of Victorian grandeur to it. It might have been because of the small bandstand sitting proudly in one corner. He’d never seen it used. The park was locked at night, which deprived him of a short cut to his house. A wave of weariness washed over him. He was now in a hurry to get home. A small movement made him stop. He turned around but could see nothing in the street behind him except a cat sniffing a wall.

He instinctively looked towards Kat’s house. Nothing untoward but he couldn’t get rid of the impression that he was being watched. He turned towards the park. All looked well. He carried on walking, and the clouds moved so that moonlight was thrown down onto the street. Sitting on one of the benches was a hunched figure. Staring straight at him.

Sadler stopped. ‘Who’s there?’ he asked through the railings.

The figure unfolded itself, and, for a moment, Sadler felt the thud of fear but the person was anxious to get away. He started into a sprint, shouting over his shoulder, ‘She’s not there.’ Sadler stared after the boy in astonishment, then looked up at the empty house.

Kat woke up in Mark’s uncomfortable spare bedroom. After their conversation about Lena, Kat had pleaded a headache and had gone upstairs to bed. Charlie followed her and settled on her blankets. The cat had made himself comfortable in Mark’s house, and she could hear him purring contentedly as she stirred awake.

If Mark had made an effort with the rest of the house, he hadn’t bothered here. The walls were bare. Thin, cheaply made curtains hardly blocked out any light. But it was warm, probably from the water tank in the airing cupboard. Kat stretched out her legs and reached into her bag for the novel she was reading. It wasn’t there. She must have left it in the living room. She checked the time on her phone. Half eight and, unless she was imagining it, she’d slept straight through the night. She pulled on her woollen jumper over her pyjamas and headed downstairs.

From the living room she could hear men’s voices, muted, and then a chuckle of laughter that wasn’t Mark’s. She turned on the kettle and watched it boil, wondering whether to alert them to her presence. How would Mark explain the fact that she was in his house?

A man came into the kitchen, a mug in his hand, and started when he saw her. Then smiled. ‘You’re Kat? I’m Brian.’ He held out his hand, a curiously old-fashioned gesture. She took it. His palms were calloused. He saw her looking. ‘I was a mechanic. In the army. Tanks are harder on the skin than cars.’

‘That’s how you know—’

‘Mark. Yes.’

The unspoken question hung between them. ‘He told me about the gun. It must have been a shock. It’s better you’re staying here. He can keep an eye on you.’

‘It was a shock.’ She didn’t know what else to say. She marvelled at the wider world’s acceptance of her presence in Mark’s house.

Brian walked over to the sink, rinsed the mug and tipped it upside down onto the draining board. Mark came into the kitchen, and she slid past him. ‘I’d best get dressed. I didn’t realise you had visitors.’

He smiled after her. ‘There’s someone I want you to meet. We’ll wait for you in the front room.’

Kat hadn’t brought enough clothes and searched through her bag for the last pair of trousers. She’d need to go back to Providence Villa to pick up some clean stuff. The thought of doing her dirty laundry in front of Mark didn’t appeal. She dressed hurriedly and went back downstairs.

In the living room sat a man so resembling Father Christmas that Kat did a double take. He was in his sixties with cropped white hair and a long beard. He was rifling through what looked like a set of black-and-white photographs.

Mark did the introductions. ‘This is James Plower. I wanted you to meet him. He’s from the university in Manchester, but he lives in Bampton and is a friend of Brian’s. There’s a couple of things I want him to talk to you about.’

James didn’t stand up but gave her a welcoming nod. ‘I’ve brought some pictures of the old place. Taken two years ago, admittedly, but the building hasn’t changed much.’

Kat joined him on the sofa and took the first image out of his hand. It was a well-produced shot. The black earth and white sky were dominated by a huge chunk of grey slab. ‘Where’s this?’

‘It’s Hale’s End. The old mortuary. Where your brother-in-law was found dead.’

Mark was on the chair opposite, assessing her. ‘You don’t recognise it at all?’

Kat took the rest of the photos from the bearded man and looked through them. The place was incredible. Frightening and yet majestic in its beauty. The love and care that must have gone into building it. She shook her head. ‘I’ve never seen this place before in my life. I knew about it. It’s common knowledge around here. But why the hell would I want to visit an old morgue stuck out in the middle of nowhere? It has absolutely no interest for me whatsoever.’

‘That’s a shame.’ James didn’t appear too offended but took the photographs back from her. ‘Mark thought you might want to see me, nevertheless. Not just about Hale’s End.’

She looked across at Mark.

‘Brian’s the one who told me, in the pub, about the boy,’ said Mark. ‘He lives in the same street as James and they got talking about Hale’s End and the murder there. In the course of the conversation something interesting emerged. So Brian rang me this morning to ask who I was trying to help. He thought it important that you hear this.’

At the thought of the teenager, Kat swallowed.

‘Are you sure you want me to tell you about the place?’ asked James. ‘If you’re not interested in its history?’ There was a wry glint in his eye.

‘I didn’t mean to be rude. Andrew was murdered there. That’s literally all I know about it.’

‘I know, and I’m sorry, but from a historian’s point of view it does add an extra layer to an already fascinating story.’

‘Glad to add extra drama.’

James touched her lightly on the arm. ‘I think you should hear the story. I can do my five-minute spiel, no problem. So this place, as you probably already know, was built when the Canadian regiment was stationed in Bampton. There was a main hospital off Bampton High Street which was demolished in the sixties. Then there was a subsidiary infirmary about two hundred metres from here. Records suggest it was for the more severe cases, including contagious diseases.’

‘And the mortuary was built for those who didn’t make it.’

‘Well, quite. It stayed open until 1919 and then was abandoned. That it hasn’t fallen into more disrepair is largely, I think, due to its isolated location. It’s been forgotten about.’

‘Until a few weeks ago. When Andrew turns up dead there.’

Mark was shaking his head. ‘I don’t think so, Kat. We’ve already spoken about this. Are you sure that Lena never mentioned this place? Or perhaps your parents?’

‘My parents? Good God. My mother and father were busy GPs. We hardly saw them when we were growing up. They had no time to come out hunting for old buildings. There’s nothing that connects us to the First World War.’

‘You must have had a relative that served in the war,’ said Mark. ‘Most of us have. It was tales of my great-grandfather’s exploits that made me want to join the army.’

Kat shook her head. ‘Not in my family. Or, if there was, no one ever talked about it.’

‘I knew your father, you know.’ James was putting the photos back into a brown envelope.

‘Dad? How did you know him?’

‘He was my GP when I first came to Bampton. I remember both your parents well. Especially your mother. But I saw your father a few times too. They were GPs of the old kind. They physically examined you. I went to my doctor recently complaining about a sore chest and he never even got out of his chair.’

‘Do you know what? I haven’t thought about him in weeks. It’s Mum I’ve been thinking about. With everything that’s happened with Lena. What she might have said. She had such a strong personality. Dad . . . well, he was just there.’

‘As well as being a good doctor, he was also a very interesting man. We would swap stories and one of them, in particular, I think will interest you.’

‘Story? What story?’

James hesitated.

Mark motioned for him to carry on. ‘Tell her.’