The Crow Trap (34 page)

“Exactly what are you getting at?”

Anne Preece replied, “Either she was madder than we thought and hallucinated legions of otters marching over the Langholme Valley or she was telling porky-pies.”

“Why would she do that? She’s a scientist.”

“Scientists have been known to falsify records for their own reasons.”

“What sort of reasons?”

“Personal glory. Because they’ve been nobbled “Are you saying she’d been bribed by the quarry company to exaggerate her records?” “No,” Anne said. “Of course not. From the quarry’s point of view that would be completely counterproductive. Just the opposite to what they’d want. The purpose of the Environmental Impact Assessment is to see what effect the proposed development would have on this landscape.

It’s in the company’s interest that we find nothing of conservation value on the site. Then they can claim at the public inquiry that the quarry wouldn’t cause significant environmental damage. If the report claimed the biggest concentration of otters in the county they’d find it hard to make any sort of case for the quarry to go ahead. Otters are furry and cute. Every protest group in the country would be here waving banners.”

“So you’re saying she was nobbled by the opposition?”

“I’m not saying anything.” Anne was clearly starting to get exasperated. “I don’t know what was going through her head. But from the letter it doesn’t seem likely she was just mistaken.”

Edie had been listening to the exchange and asked, “Who is the opposition?”

Usually Vera seemed to welcome Edie’s contributions to these discussions, but now, still angry and frustrated, she turned on her.

“What the hell do you mean?”

Edie raised her eyebrows as if commenting on the behaviour of a spoilt child and answered calmly, “I mean, is there an organized opposition group? A campaign HQ? People in charge? And is there any evidence that Grace knew anyone involved in it? Or any of the other conservation pressure groups? Perhaps she falsified her records out of the mistaken belief that she was serving a cause she believed in.”

Vera was chastened. “I don’t know. We can check.”

“There’s a group of people in Langholme who’ve been fighting the development,” Anne said, ‘ I don’t think they’ve been particularly effective. And so far as I know they haven’t got any of the big pressure groups on their side yet. It’s more a matter of the locals worrying about a decline in house prices if there’s a massive quarry on the doorstep and lorries rumbling through the village night and day.

Typical nimby stuff.” “Besides,” Rachael , “Grace wasn’t stupid. I mean, I know you think she was a bit loopy when she was here, but she must have known that in the long term that sort of fraud wouldn’t work. The only reason EIAs are accepted in public inquiries is because they’re considered unbiased. If inspectors were to lose faith in them conservationists would give up any voice they’ve got in the planning process. Grace must have realized that.” “I think she hated doing it,” Rachael said. “Someone must have been forcing her to lie. You’ve read that letter. She was obsessed about getting things right. Perhaps that’s why she seemed so stressed out while she was here. She couldn’t bear the pretence. I can understand.

It would have driven me crazy too. I should have seen what was happening. She certainly needed to talk to someone.” “Aye,” Vera said. “Well, it seems she realized that.”

“How do you know?”

“I had a meeting with her social worker today. Ms. Antonia Thorne.

Funny sort of business that welfare work. Couldn’t do it myself. I always thought you had to be a heartless sod to be a cop, but it must be worse in that line. This woman had known Grace Fulwell since she was a baby, placed her with one set of foster carers after another until she found ones that would suit. You’d have thought she’d have some sort of feeling for the girl, affection even, but once Grace went off to university she washed her hands of her. Didn’t even send her a card at Christmas. You’d have thought she’d be curious at least, but apparently not. She said she’d forgotten all about her until she’d heard she was dead.” “I think,” Edie said, ”re trained not to get involved.”

“With a kid?” Vera shook her head. “It seems all wrong.”

“Anyway … ” Edie prompted.

“Anyway, when Ms. Thorne got back from her holidays in the sun there was a pile of mail waiting for her. She hadn’t looked at it when I spoke to her earlier in the week. One of the letters was from Grace. I suppose she had no one else to turn to. Sad, that.” She paused, lost in thought, and this time Rachael didn’t think it was for dramatic effect. “Grace said that something was bothering her. There was something she needed to discuss. Although she wasn’t still officially On the social services caseload would Ms. Thorne see her?”

“Oh; Rachael was almost in tears. “If she’d been there perhaps Grace would still be alive.”

“Couldn’t someone else in the office have dealt with it?” Anne asked angrily.

“It was marked personal. It wasn’t even opened.”

“Are you saying that’s why Grace was killed?” Edie asked.

“Ib prevent her from telling anyone that she was falsifying her otter records? I must say it doesn’t seem sufficiently important.”

“Motives for murder seldom are,” Vera spat back.

“In that case you need to know who put pressure on her to lie in the first place.”

“Oh, I think we know that, don’t we?” Vera said, resented the crowd at Holme Park? Who wouldn’t them to make a profit out of selling land to a development company? Edmund bloody Fulwell. And he seems to have disappeared like a mirage. Like all Grace’s bloody otters.”

Chapter Forty-Two.

Late that evening Peter Kemp turned up, powering down the track in his new white Land Rover. Rachael had phoned him from Black Law in a moment of panic. A couple of days before Grace’s death she’d passed on the preliminary otter counts. Now Rachael wanted him to know they were probably inaccurate before he made a fool of them all by going public.

Amelia, the debby wife with the big teeth, answered the phone. In the background there were voices, laughter. In explanation Amelia said, “Just a few friends round to dinner,” and Rachael thought she and Peter never seemed to be on their own together. She told Peter it wasn’t urgent, there certainly was no need to rush out to Baikie’s but he seemed glad of an excuse to leave.

Although it was ten o’clock when he arrived Rachael suggested they went out for a walk. She hadn’t forgotten the Sunday lunch in the house in Kimmerston and couldn’t stand the thought of Edie’s sneers. Besides, she hadn’t been on the hill all day and was feeling restless and caged in. Outside it was still light, though the sun was down and the colour had seeped out of the heather and the old bracken. They walked in silence and, without either of them appearing to decide where to go, followed the track through the edge of the conifer plantation to the tarn, high on the moor. The pool, surrounded by reed, was full to overflowing despite the recent dry weather, and reflected the last of the light. The sky was enormous, lavender and grey streaked with gold.

This was a mistake, Rachael thought. Better to be cooped up in Baikie’s with Anne flirting and Edie making snide comments, than here stirring up old memories. Because here she could forgive him the stolen work and the wife. It would have been easy to reach out and take his hand.

“Do you fancy a swim?” he said and that made things worse. It was a sort of joke, a reference to the old times when they were living on their own in Baikie’s and they’d come up here after a day in the field, laughing at the shock of cold water, the peaty mud squelching between their toes as they waded out to find somewhere deep enough to swim.

She was tempted to say “Why not?” She knew what he wanted. A bit of a fling. Confirmation that the old charm still worked. Someone to bitch to about Amelia and the drag of married life. But she wanted to forget about the case for an hour, the exhilaration of running into the tarn and the feel of his jersey as he held her. The contact that Grace hadn’t had.

“No,” she said, her voice light. “We’re not here to play.” Because pretending she could be close to Peter again was like Grace pretending there were more otters in the valley than the rest of the county. It was seductive but untrue and in the end would drive her barmy.

They stood looking over the tarn. There was no breeze, no distant sound of traffic, no aircraft. Occasionally a fish jumped silver then landed with a splash and a ring of ripples and the water lapped against the reeds, spilling out almost to their feet.

“Grace was lying,” she said.

“Are you sure? She was bloody good. Everyone said. Perhaps she picked up some clues you and Anne missed. I mean if it were true it would be dynamite.” “You’d have to write a paper,” she said.

“Right!” The sarcasm eluded him altogether.

“I am sure. Quite sure. And if you publish those results in their present form I’d come out publicly to question them.”

“All right. No need to get like that. We’re a team, aren’t we? I wouldn’t do anything without consulting you first.” She said nothing. He had convinced himself and there was no point arguing.

He went on, “Why did she do it?”

Anne thinks she was just mad. The inspector thinks her father put her up to it.”

And Edie, the great oracle. What does she think?”

“I’m not quite sure.”

“It’s not like Edie to keep her mouth shut.”

He sat on the grass and clasped his knees playing the schoolboy. He looked up at her. And what’s your theory? You’re the most observant person I know. You must have some idea.”

Rachael shrugged. “How well did you know her, Peter?”

“Not at all.”

“You must have met her before she started. Interviewed her at least.

You don’t employ anyone without an interview. Company policy. I should know. But she didn’t come into the office, did she? I would have remembered. It was supposed to be my team. Picked by me. Then I found out a mammal person had been appointed and I had to lump it.”

“But she was good, Rache. The best. I had to snap her up while I had the chance.”

“Where did you find her?”

“Scotland. She was working for a mate. I saw her in the field and I was impressed. There wasn’t any need for a formal interview. Look, I didn’t mean to put your nose out of joint.”

“But you rated her. After one meeting.”

“Sure, she was shit-hot.”

Rachael stood for a moment. “Tell me about the setup in Scotland.”

“She was working for the Wildlife Trust, the second year of a two-year contract. She was supposed to be coordinating volunteer counts but she wasn’t much good at delegation and ended up doing most of the work herself. Accommodation was provided for the contract staff but she didn’t use it. She was the only woman. Perhaps that was it. She started off camping then found digs in a farm.”

“Did you go to poach her for the Black Law project?”

“God no. I went because it was my mate’s thirtieth birthday party. She was there, but only briefly. Hardly the life and soul. The next day he arranged for her to take me out. She was coming to the end of the contract. We needed someone for the mammals at Black Law. It made sense.” He paused. “Look, I know I should have consulted you but, as I said, she was good. Ideal. She was interested in moving closer to home. She had no ties.”

“Like me then. Lonely, ripe for the old Kemp charm.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” But he seemed to take it as a sort of compliment.

“Did she fancy you? Come on, you must have been able to tell.”

It was his turn to shrug.

“I think Grace probably fancied you,” she insisted. “Most women do. At least for a while. Is that why she agreed to start with us?”

“You’re not jealous, Rache, are you?” The tone was teasing but deliberately hurtful.

She turned away as if she’d been hit and he spoke more gently. “Look, I didn’t try anything on if that’s what you mean. I’d just got married, for God’s sake.” “Oh,” Rachael said angrily. “I’m not accusing you of that. What does that matter?”

“Well then?”

“I’ve been trying to think who would gain by Grace’s exaggerated otter counts. And it wouldn’t do you any harm. It’d be a great kudos to discover the best otter patch in the county. Never mind a paper, there’d be a book in it, a TV film.”

“Are you joking? I’m being paid by Godfrey Waugh. That’s the last thing he’d want.”

“So you’d have a reputation for honesty too. Mr. Waugh seems quite an honourable man. Perhaps he’d welcome that. Peter the incorruptible.”

“Not so incorruptible if the fraud was discovered.”

“Then it would be Grace’s mistake. Not yours.” She paused. “I’m not saying you asked Grace to lie. But perhaps she did it to please you.”

“You’re mad,” he said. “I don’t have that sort of power. You’ve spent too long in the hills.”

“Yes, perhaps I have.”

She sat on the grass beside him, a gesture of apology. She’d never gone in for conspiracy theories, but still she couldn’t quite let it go. “It’s not true then?”

“No, it’s not true.”

She believed him. “I’m sorry.”

They sat for a moment in silence. The light was going quickly now.