A Nice Place to Die (26 page)

The train rumbled through suburbs and into a busy station. Jess's carriage emptied as though someone had shouted ‘Fire'. She watched the passengers move along the platform to the exit and the crowd seemed to her a live thing in its own right, all the expressionless faces the scales on some giant lizard.

Jess listened to the list of towns the train would stop at. To her, the names sounded romantic and strange, a new world full of promise.

Then a whistle; the train lurched and moved slowly forward. Jess watched out of the window as the tracks merged and disappeared. The railway sidings slid away behind her as they picked up speed between rows of terrace houses, then new housing estates which reminded her of Catcombe Mead.

And then they were in the country, flashing through villages, speeding past farm buildings and cottages. Jess thought of Mark. He'd be out in the fields by now. She asked herself, is he thinking of me? She could see men just like him at work as the train flashed past, moving across fields of churned mud under a low leaden sky.

Goodbye, Mark, she said to herself.

She picked up the baby and looked down at her sleeping face. Funny how they screw up their eyes when they're asleep, she thought, as though they're afraid of the light.

‘It's all new to us from now on,' she murmured to Kylie. ‘We've escaped, you and me. We live our own lives from now on, you and me.'

Poor Mum, Jess thought, she'll miss Kylie. She wanted me to leave her there, in that no-hope dump. But how could I? What kind of life would that be for the kid? She'd end up exactly like me, trapped and dragged down like me.

She said to Kylie, ‘You wouldn't want to end up like me and Kev, would you, kid? Your Gran will just have to make do with visiting your Dad in prison, won't she?'

In Crewe Jess left the train. She stood on the platform and watched it disappear down the line, taking her old life with it.

Then she boarded a train for London. It was important to cover her tracks. So far, so good. She'd warned Donna of her intention to leave; her absence should be covered by that, for a while at least. But if her plans didn't work out, and Donna got the police looking for her, they would waste a lot of time searching in the North before they ever thought she might be in London. That's if the man in the ticket office remembered a young woman with a baby buying a ticket to Liverpool. He would, Jess thought; with the kid and the way she looked, she wasn't one of the run of the mill commuters he was used to.

In the train from Crewe, Kylie lay on the seat beside Jess, lulled by the rhythm of the wheels on the track.

Jess watched her sleeping. ‘Don't think I never loved you,' she said softly, ‘this isn't going to be easy. It's the only way to give you a better life. That's the best I can do for you.'

An elderly woman walking up the carriage towards the buffet car leaned over to look at the baby. ‘What a lovely child,' she said, ‘what a beautiful baby.'

Jess smiled. ‘Yes,' she said, ‘I wish she was mine. I'm just minding her. Her mother had to go to the toilet.'

It had started. It was easier than she'd expected it would be.

THIRTY-TWO

D
etective Chief Inspector Moody sat at her desk facing Sergeant Reid.

‘Where are we on the Kevin Miller case?' she asked.

‘Are you worried we haven't got enough?' Jack Reid said.

Rachel got up and stretched. Then she sat down again.

‘I don't know, Jack,' she said. ‘We've got the DNA, but it is circumstantial. There could be all sorts of explanations why he was in her house. Including burglary.'

‘His DNA's all over the bedclothes in the spare room,' Jack said. ‘And in the bathroom. Everywhere, in fact.'

‘Perhaps she asked him to stay,' Rachel said.

‘Why would she do that?' Jack asked.

‘Because she was too scared to refuse,' Rachel said.

‘But why would he want to?'

‘Hiding out,' Rachel suggested.

There was a pause, then she said, ‘All I'm saying, we've plenty of evidence he was there, but that doesn't mean he murdered her. You and I may be certain he did, but a jury may not be so sure. They might even think that if he'd murdered her on the spur of the moment, there wouldn't be nearly as much DNA as there was.'

‘You're saying it could've been an accident. She fell down stairs and he moved the body checking to see if she was dead? Is that what you think?'

It was plain Jack Reid didn't disagree with this. He had always thought that Alice Bates's death could have been an accident.

‘That would explain the look on her face,' Rachel said, ‘suppose she wasn't quite dead and the last thing she saw was Kevin Miller bending over her? She'd think he was going to throttle her. She'd look like that then.'

Jack Reid walked over to the window. There was never any doubt when the Sergeant was thinking seriously about something, he always stood hunched forward supporting his prominent chin on his clenched fist, a bit like a moving version of the Rodin statue.

‘You want to have another go at the neighbours?' he asked. ‘Kevin's been out of the way for some time now, they may feel able to tell a different story now.'

Rachel Moody looked relieved that he had made the suggestion. She hadn't wanted to say anything herself, because she was convinced Jack thought she was flogging a dead horse.

‘If Kevin was hiding out in Alice Bates's house, you'd think someone would see him going in or out,' she said. ‘Perhaps someone saw him.'

‘He'd make damn sure they didn't,' Jack Reid said. ‘He must've had that poor woman terrorized. If anyone asked, she'd say he wasn't there. She'd be too scared to say anything else.'

‘Well, let's see what we can dig up,' Rachel said. ‘We'll start with those two gay women with the kid who took the accidental overdose. That girl wasn't the type who'd get hungry and pick berries to eat. She wouldn't have gone into the countryside at all, by the look of her; she'd have stayed in the pavement zone and bought vegetarian takeaway. And there weren't any holly trees or mistletoe or whatever it was she took where she was found. She must have taken those poison berries with her.'

‘Go easy on her, though,' Jack said. ‘That mother of hers looked fit for the funny farm. The kid's probably vulnerable.'

‘Don't mention the word farm round Forester Close,' Rachel said. ‘It's like a red rag to a bull.'

‘Well, I don't really know what we're looking for, Boss, but we've got to start somewhere, I suppose,' Sergeant Reid said, picking up Rachel's car keys from her desk. ‘I'll drive.'

Building work to repair the fire damage had started on Number Five. There was scaffolding on the gable end, and a breeze-block wall to what had been Nicky's bedroom. There was a mechanical digger parked in front of the garage, and the front garden had been churned into a morass. But at the moment there was no one working on the site.

Rachel Moody looked at the mud and shuddered.

‘We could start next door,' Jack Reid said. He was a man with daughters and he knew what she was thinking.

‘No,' she said, ‘we start here. I've got a hunch about this.'

Jack muttered, ‘I won't be putting money on it, whatever it is.'

Terri opened the front door to them before they reached the house.

‘I'm glad you've come,' she said. ‘I've been thinking things over. About Kevin Miller.'

Rachel and Jack looked at each other, puzzled. ‘How's Nicky?' Rachel said.

‘She and Helen are out shopping in Haverton,' Terri said. ‘That's why it's good you've come now. I need to talk to you when she's not here.'

She looked like a bulldog trying to learn to read, Rachel thought. Fierce and uncertain, but determined.

‘About Kevin Miller?' she said. ‘What's this got to do with him?'

‘Come into the kitchen,' Terri said. ‘I don't want anyone to see us talking.'

There's a lot of hidden talking goes on in the kitchens of Forester Close, Jack Reid thought, but then, there were a lot of secrets. He followed Rachel down the hall.

Terri did not offer them tea or coffee. She turned to confront them as soon as Jack closed the kitchen door behind him.

‘I want to be frank with you,' Terri said. ‘That business with Nicky . . . well, she's a teenage girl with all that brings with it, and it seems she had a bit of a crush on Kevin Miller. You know what girls her age are like? Of course, to him she was just some silly kid. These girls always seem to go for the wild ones, don't they?'

She was appealing to Rachel, but Rachel had no idea what she was talking about. It was Jack who nodded in understanding.

‘My girl was just the same,' he said. ‘Those weirdo pop stars!'

‘Well, we've put all that behind us,' Terri said. ‘But I want to be sure you've got enough to put Kevin away?'

Rachel looked startled. ‘He's been charged,' she said. ‘He'll be tried.'

‘I know, but it sounds to me that it's not an open and shut case,' Terri said. She was very red in the face. ‘I know I must sound a bit mad, but if there's any chance that he could get off in court, I've got to tell you something that'll make sure Kevin Miller is put away for years. I don't want Nicky to have it all dragged up again . . .'

‘What exactly are you saying?' Rachel Moody asked.

‘If he's going to get away with Alice Bates's murder,' Terri said, speaking unnaturally loudly as though she were reading from a script, ‘I want him convicted of the murder of the vicar from Old Catcombe. I know you haven't found any proof but I'm here to tell you Kevin Miller did it and I was a witness to it. So was Alice. I saw her watching. If he found that out, it could be why he killed her.'

DCI Moody licked her lips. Jack Reid, watching her, thought, she's a predator, a killer. She looks as though she's purring; she thinks she's finally got her man.

Terri sat down suddenly on a chair at the kitchen table. There were tears in her eyes.

‘Please,' she said, ‘take me to the police station and I'll give you everything you want. But Nicky and Helen might come home any time. I don't want them to know about any of this.

‘Did anyone else see what happened?' Jack Reid said. ‘I'm not suggesting you're not a reliable witness, but corroboration would clinch it, I should think.'

Terri took a deep breath. ‘Try Jean Henson next door,' she said. ‘I think she may have seen something.'

The DCI and the Sergeant left Terri alone while they went to ask Jean Henson if she had seen the murder of the young vicar from the village.

Terri put the kettle on to boil. They'll want tea when they come back, she thought, the police drink a lot of tea.

Her hands trembled as she set out four cups and saucers, in case they brought Jean with them.

He deserves it, Terri told herself, he did murder the vicar, even if he didn't kill Alice.

It was all planned. She had already talked to Jean about what she intended to do. Nicky had to be protected at all costs. That's why I sent her off with Helen to spend her Christmas money, Terri thought. If Jean and I can provide proof that Kevin Miller killed Tim Baker, any doubts a jury might have about his guilt for Alice's death will be set aside. They won't look for anyone else, anyway.

Terri was surprised that she didn't feel more guilty about what she was doing. She had seen Kevin Miller among the group who attacked the young vicar, but she hadn't seen him kill him. Unlike Alice, she had not been able to watch what was happening. She had run out of the house and through the garden into the back alley behind the Close, looking for Nicky. She had been terrified that the child might be one of the gang involved.

But, Terri told herself, I know who was responsible for Tim Baker's death. Kevin Miller was the leader of that gang.

She'd said to Jean, ‘I'm going to tell them I was a witness. I'm going to give them the evidence they need to put that brute away for life.'

Jean's eyes were unexpectedly shrewd as they met hers. She said, ‘It's your word against his. It would be better if there were two witnesses.'

Terri could not believe what she understood Jean was trying to say. Was she really volunteering to be the second witness? Why would she be willing to commit perjury to protect Nicky?

‘Did you see anything?' Terri asked.

‘I think so,' Jean said.

Terri thought, she must hate Kevin Miller because she blames him for driving her husband to commit suicide, but does she hate him that much?

‘But I saw you in the garden,' Terri said. ‘You can't have seen what happened.'

‘No, that's not right. You saw Peter in the garden, not me, not then,' Jean said. ‘I came out later when I'd seen what Kevin Miller had done. I came out because I had to warn Peter to keep out of the way or he might get hurt. Kevin had threatened him, you know?'

‘So . . . ?' Terri said.

‘Yes,' Jean said.

They smiled at one another. Like conspirators, Terri told herself, but almost like friends, too.

THIRTY-THREE

D
onna Miller parked her car outside Number Two. She was tired and her eyes felt raw from lack of sleep. Someone on the day shift had failed to turn up and she'd had to stay on the till for another six hours at the twenty-four hour petrol station on the Haverton Road.

She couldn't bear to open the garage and drive in because she knew Kevin's motorbike was inside. It was covered with a waterproof sheet but knowing it was there reminded her painfully of his absence every time she looked at it, so she tried not to.