The Ghost Before Christmas (2 page)

Chapter Two

‘It looks idyllic.' Lyn Joseph passed the photograph of the old stone farmhouse on to Daisy Sherringham.

‘It does.' Daisy looked sideways at Peter Collins.

‘Trevor showed me the brochure earlier,' Peter enthused. ‘Beautiful farmhouse, next door to a pub renowned for gourmet food and the landlord, Dewi, and his wife, Elin, have agreed to put up a Christmas tree and decorate the place. We'll have food and beer on tap. All you girls will have to do is put your feet up, have a well-earned rest, and cuddle your babies.'

‘The big ones or the little ones?' Daisy enquired.

‘As you're offering …'

‘Why the hard sell, Peter?' Daisy interrupted.

‘Just thinking of you, my darling.'

‘Really?' Daisy raised her eyebrows. ‘You sound like a carbon credit salesman. This farmhouse, lovely as it is, happens to be in Wales.'

‘That's the advantage. Beautiful scenery, good beer – the Welsh really know how to brew beer,' Peter added. ‘Farm fresh lamb and beef, fresh cockles …'

‘You hate cockles, and you keep telling everyone you hate Wales.'

‘I don't hate Wales. Just the roads –'

‘The sheep, the cows, the tractors, and everything else that slows the traffic when you want to play Grand Prix driver. Let me think, what else did you complain about, the last time you and Trevor were there?' Daisy mused. ‘I know. The lack of takeaways and civilization. The beer, which, incidentally, you now say is quite good after all –'

‘That's the beauty of this farmhouse, darling,' Peter interrupted. ‘We won't need takeaways with a gourmet pub next door. The beer there has won awards, so Trevor will be happy.'

‘Because Trevor drinks
so
much more beer than you?' Daisy raised a sceptical eyebrow.

Peter ignored the quip. ‘For once, the four of us will be able to get away from it all. We'll have that perfect Christmas everyone dreams of and never has. There are no mobile masts and no signal in the valley so the brass won't be able to contact Trevor or me no matter how many crimes are committed on our patch.'

‘There are no phones in the valley?' Lyn checked.

‘The landline will work, but we don't have to hand the number over. Given your age you might not remember landlines,' Peter teased. ‘They're wired into houses. You have to pick up a receiver, dial a number …'

‘Very funny! I may be younger than Trevor, but I'm not
that
much younger,' Lyn protested.

‘You're a baby compared to the rest of us,' Peter countered.

Sensing Lyn's annoyance at Peter's reference to their age difference, Trevor changed the subject. ‘One plus is, we get to see Dan Evans again.'

‘It's generous of him to invite us to spend Christmas in Wales, and offer us this farmhouse at such a reasonable rate,' Lyn said.

‘Much as I like Dan, I've a feeling his motives aren't entirely altruistic.' Daisy reached into her handbag and produced a newspaper cutting, with the headline:

ALUN PHILLIPS APPEAL DISMISSED

Trevor picked up a bottle of wine and topped up his own, Peter's, and Lyn's glasses. While he was on his feet he glanced into the travel cot next to Peter. A mop of dark curls and tiny pink nose was all that could be seen of Peter and Daisy's three-week-old daughter, Poppy.

‘Dan could just be feeling lonely.' Peter suggested. ‘Retirement must come as a shock to the system for coppers. One day, it's working all the hours of the day and night and then some, and the next, it's here's your golden goodbye.'

‘More like a wooden goodbye these days,' Trevor countered.

‘Whatever. I think Dan's missing us.'

‘Play the naïve trusting soul, Peter, but don't expect the rest of us to admire your act. You're no Daniel Day-Lewis. Dan Evans offered us this farmhouse because he wants to draw on Trevor's expertise,' Daisy helped herself to grapes from a bowl on the table.

‘More like mine,' Peter retorted. ‘Trevor might be the senior officer but I'm the one with the acumen.'

Daisy smiled. ‘Do you really believe that?'

‘I do.'

‘While you're up, sweetheart, check on Marty, please?' Lyn asked Trevor.

‘And miss an argument between Peter and Daisy? No, absolutely not.'

‘Suppose I let Peter try to explain why he has more acumen than you until you come back downstairs?'

‘That's the most interesting bit, Daisy. I always know when he's lost the argument because he starts ranting.'

‘You, Joseph, are a troublemaker.' Peter ignored the grapes and took a handful of crisps.

‘It was your idea not to tell the girls the whole truth when we received Dan's invitation.' Trevor climbed the stairs and looked in on his year-old son, Marty. He was sleeping face down in his cot, his tiny fingers entwined in the ear of his ‘wabbi' – the name he'd given the green plush rabbit Peter and Daisy had bought him.

‘Sleeping like an angel,' Trevor declared when he re-joined the others.

‘So, can Daisy and I have the truth please?' Lyn demanded.

‘From the beginning,' Daisy added.

‘You were the one Dan sent the brochure to, Joseph.' Peter sat back and slid his arm around Daisy's shoulders.

‘You, girls, know the basics. Dan's sister died a few months after her son, Jake Phillips, was killed in the Black Daffodil investigation. She left the family businesses to her surviving sons, Dewi and Alun. Two years ago this Christmas, Alun was found knifed, unconscious, and critically injured in his locked house. Although his wife Christine was thought to be in the house with him, she'd disappeared. Her body was never found, but Alun was arrested and charged with her murder. When Dan heard Alun was in custody he took early retirement so he could help Dewi and his wife, Elin, run the pub and family holiday cottage rental agency.'

‘Does Dan think the nephew killed the wife?' Daisy asked.

‘He's never said. I've never asked.'

‘Peter?'

‘I don't know any more than what was published in the papers at the time, but from what I read, I never thought the local force would make the murder charge stick.'

‘It convinced a jury,' Trevor reminded him.

‘Which proves my point: that most people are complete idiots and shouldn't be trusted to make important decisions.'

Daisy patted Peter's back. ‘That's my man, bigoted to the last. Given that Christine's body was never found, what evidence was Alun Phillips convicted on?'

‘Like Peter, I only know what the media chose to report, and we all know how selective they are. They tried to make out that Christine Phillips' lover's evidence was crucial.' Trevor stared at the brochure of the farmhouse as if the answer lay there.

‘The oil rig worker, Michael Edwards, who said Christine had arranged to leave her husband that night and go away with him.'

Trevor turned to Peter. ‘So you did follow the case?'

‘Enough to know that Edwards looked decidedly dodgy, for all the emphasis on the loving text messages and e-mails he exchanged with Christine Phillips.'

‘Has Dan formally asked you to re-investigate the case?' Daisy demanded.

‘We can't re-investigate, Daisy, because whatever happened, happened outside of our jurisdiction.' Trevor replaced the brochure in the envelope.

‘Dan only asked us to look over the evidence …' Peter began.

‘You just said Dan's never given you an opinion on his nephew's guilt – or innocence.' Daisy interrupted.

‘He hasn't,' Peter confirmed. ‘But Dan wouldn't have invited us down there if he didn't have some doubts. It won't take us long to flick through a couple of files.'

‘You expect Lyn and I to sit back and watch you two work during the first Christmas leave you've wangled in years?'

‘Hardly work …'

‘It's all right, Daisy,' Lyn reassured.

‘It is?' Peter was taken aback by Lyn's response.

‘I've collected a pile of baby catalogues. We'll have fun going through them. There are some marvellous ideas for decorating children's rooms and some absolutely gorgeous furniture.'

‘Gorgeous as in make-a-large-dent-in-the-bank-account gorgeous?' Peter didn't know why he was asking.

Daisy smiled. ‘Armchair shopping sounds wonderful, Lyn.'

‘Sounds expensive,' Trevor demurred.

‘You know that new car you wanted?' Daisy turned to Peter.

‘Yes,' he answered slowly.

‘You can forget it for a year or two … or three. Daddies have to make sacrifices. As I'm breastfeeding, mine's another orange juice. You know the way to the fridge, darling.' Daisy handed him her glass.

Chapter Three

‘Hello, Alun.'

Dan Evans struggled to squeeze his enormous frame into the fixed metal table and chair unit bolted to the floor of the prison visiting room.

‘Uncle Dan, it's good of you to come. I know how busy the pub gets at this time of year.' Alun Phillips perched sideways on the chair across from his uncle so he wouldn't have to cram his long legs under the low table.

‘Dewi can manage without me for one afternoon. He sends his best and a promise he'll come next time.'

Alun couldn't conceal his disappointment. ‘I hope he'll make it.'

‘He will. He, like me, knows how important visits are to a prisoner.'

‘I don't think either of you can have any idea what's it's like in here.'

‘I've been in enough places like this to know exactly what it's like,' Dan contradicted.

‘As a visitor, not a prisoner locked in a cell too small to stretch out in, for hours on end, day after day. With nothing to do except worry about Nia. Not knowing what happened to Christine … going over and over everything that happened that night in my mind, until I feel as though my head will explode with the strain of trying to remember. All the while knowing I'll be here until the day I die …'

‘Hopefully not, Alun.' Dan cut the self-pitying diatribe short. ‘And you can stop worrying about Nia. She's fine with Dewi, Elin, and me.'

It wasn't true, but Dan didn't want to add to Alun's concerns by telling him his daughter hadn't smiled in two years and barely said a word other than “yes, please” and “no, thank you”, and then only in response to direct questions.

‘She's really fine, Uncle Dan?'

There was such a desolate expression on Alun's face Dan felt he had no choice but to lie. ‘She's fine,' he repeated. ‘She asks after you.'

‘And her mother?'

‘No.' Dan couldn't stretch his lying that far. Nia only mentioned her daddy when he, Dewi, or Elin reminded her of his existence. He'd never once heard her ask about her mother.

‘After Nia was born, Christine was continually angry. Nia was terrified of her.'

Dan knew it was a dangerous question but he had to ask. ‘How are they treating you in here?'

‘All right.' Alun was non-committal.

‘Really?'

Alun rubbed the fading bruises on his jaw. ‘I've learned the hard way who to trust and who to avoid.'

‘Keep …'

‘Your head down?' Alun finished for him. ‘Sound advice. It's the mantra of the more caring screws.'

‘Have you a decent cellmate?'

‘Very. A lifer like me, but unlike me, he cheerfully confessed to killing his wife. Said she deserved it for sleeping around. He's trying to persuade me to admit to killing Christine so I can express remorse. Then I can register to be heard by parole board for consideration for early release.'

‘If you were guilty it's what I'd advise you to do.'

Alun gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white. ‘I refuse to accept responsibility for something I didn't do.'

‘Which is exactly why I'm here. I didn't visit just to bring you what little they'll allow us to give you for Christmas. I've rented your house out for a week to friends of mine.'

‘What about my personal things and Nia's and Christine's?'

‘Elin collected them and locked them away in one of the bedrooms. Not Nia's. Elin moved them all into Nia's bedroom in the pub two years ago. I promise you, my friends won't be nosing into locked rooms, although they might read one of two of your books.'

‘They're police officers?' Alun guessed.

‘I've worked with both of them. They're the best. If anyone can find out what happened to Christine, they will.'

‘I didn't kill her, Uncle Dan.'

‘Do you think you could bring yourself to call me Dan? At your age, you make me feel eighty years old with “uncle”.'

‘I'll try. It won't be easy after all these years.'

‘I've studied the statements you made about the events of the night Christine disappeared until I can recite them from memory. There are a couple of things I'd like to clarify. First, it was Dewi who telephoned the police?'

‘So he said.'

‘He was worried when you didn't go to the pub on Christmas morning?'

‘We – that's me, Nia, and I'd hoped Christine, but I could never be sure how she'd react to any invitation from Dewi and Elin – had arranged to have a drink in the pub on Christmas morning so Dewi and Elin could give Nia her present from them. Nia had been so excited at the thought of Father Christmas coming, Dewi expected us to arrive early. When we hadn't appeared by nine o'clock he came to our house. He told me when he couldn't get an answer at the front he walked round the back, looked through the window, saw me lying in a pool of blood, dialled 999, and smashed the glass in the door to get in.'

‘He didn't look for Christine?'

‘I was out of it, so I only know what Dewi told me. Dewi didn't leave me until the paramedics arrived. He phoned Elin after he spoke to the emergency services. She came over and started looking for Christine and Nia. He helped her after the paramedics took me to the hospital.'

‘You weren't conscious?'

‘As you know, my skull was fractured. When I reached hospital I was sent straight to theatre. I didn't come round for two days.'

‘Have you any idea what happened to Nia that night?'

‘No.'

‘You know she also disappeared?'

‘Elin told me that when she, Dewi, and the police searched the house after I was taken to hospital, they failed to find her. At midday an officer, who'd been left in the house to ensure nothing was touched until the forensic teams finished their work, turned around and saw Nia sitting on the stairs in her pyjamas.'

‘Did Nia have any secret places or cupboards she used to hide in? Think, Alun,' Dan urged. ‘If Nia saw or heard anything that night, it could help you.'

‘The police questioned her at the time, and so did Elin. When Dewi asked her where she'd been hiding? All she would say was “Pengy knows”.'

Dan smiled. ‘She still says that whenever she's asked a question she doesn't want to answer.'

‘Perhaps you should interrogate Pengy.'

‘I'll get my friends on to it.'

‘Do you really think they'll be able to come up with something after two years, a full investigation, trial, and a refusal for leave to appeal against my sentence?'

‘If they do, and it's classed as new evidence, it could get your case reopened.'

‘Without Christine or her body?' Alun probed.

‘Do you think she's dead?'

‘Mike Edwards convinced the police she was.' There was bitterness in Alun's voice.

‘You don't?'

‘I honestly don't know. I wouldn't put it past her to fake her death if she thought it would hurt me.'

‘That would take premeditation, preparation, and a cool head. In all your statements you said she was drunk and angry that night.'

‘She was. Which I found strange, given that Mike Edwards said she was planning to run away with him. Although it does explain why she had a go at me for being late, when I walked in at the same time I did every night. Mike said he'd arranged to pick her up at the house at ten o'clock so they could leave while I was at work to avoid confrontation. That was Christine. She didn't spare a thought for Nia, who would have been left alone in the house. But the trains down from Scotland were delayed so Mike said he didn't arrive until one o'clock. Although he waited until dawn, Christine never appeared.'

‘You think Mike was lying about running away with Christine?'

‘I have no idea. I knew he was an old boyfriend of Christine's. But I certainly didn't know him well enough to know when he's lying.'

‘You met him?'

‘Everyone knows everyone in a valley like ours, Uncle Dan. Mike is four or five years older than me, so I didn't come across him in school, just served him in the bar a few times.'

‘You had no idea he and Christine were having an affair?'

Alun shook his head. ‘I was barely aware of his existence. I knew he worked on the oil rigs because he only turned up in the valley occasionally.'

‘You didn't know he was visiting Christine?'

‘No.'

‘You didn't check on her in the evenings?'

‘I looked forward to working evenings in the pub because it meant getting away from Christine. She made a big thing about staying in the house every night to look after Nia, although she insisted I put Nia to bed before I left for work. Christine was always in when I left the house and there when I returned. I never thought to ask her if she'd been out or had a visitor.'

‘You never noticed Mike's car in the car park?'

‘The car park's always full. Half the village use it.'

Dan thought about what Alun said. ‘You're right. Don't you think it odd that no one saw Mike with Christine or Mike going into your house?'

‘Not if he walked in the back way through the woods. The garden wall's low enough to climb over. And then again, if someone did see them together, they might assume they were just old friends – which they were. In which case it wouldn't be worth mentioning.'

‘You said Christine was angry that night. What was she angry about?'

‘As I said at my trial, after accusing me of being late Christine changed her tack and said I'd been looking at the barmaid.'

‘“Looking?” Nothing more?'

‘Nothing more than looking,' Alun emphasised. ‘But it wasn't the first time Christine had accused me of looking at Rosie Thomas.'

‘Rosie.' Dan smiled. ‘She's certainly worth looking at.'

‘I thought so. She's very pretty. She's also a happy soul with a smile for everyone. Christine was anything but after Nia was born.'

‘Could Christine have been suffering from post-natal depression?'

‘After three years? I suppose it's possible,' Alun conceded. ‘But as I said to the police, it's more likely she was an alcoholic. I don't know why I didn't see it before that night. She drank every day. She drank alone, she was aggressive, and she hid her empty bottles among the pub empties. And there was her sister …'

‘Ffion? I've met her. Nice girl.'

‘She is. Christine and Ffion used to rub along happily enough until Ffion's husband sold his run-down family farm for a fortune to a property developer and bought a hotel in Cardiff.'

‘Christine was jealous?'

‘Eaten up by it.' Alun moved awkwardly on the metal chair. ‘Whenever Ffion returned to the valley to visit her parents, she called in to see Christine, and she always had something new and expensive. Shoes, dress, or a handbag that Christine wanted and we couldn't afford. I used to dread Ffion's visits simply because they gave Christine another reason to be angry.'

The bell sounded for the end of visiting.

‘One last question, and please try and answer it honestly,' Dan asked.

‘If I can.'

‘Why did you marry, Christine?'

‘Because I love – loved her. She was different then.'

‘Are you saying she changed?'

‘Out of all recognition, especially after Nia was born.'

The warders moved into the room.

Dan extricated himself from the table and seating unit. ‘Try not to worry.'

‘I haven't much else to do in here.'

Dan searched for something positive he could say. All he could come up with was, ‘I'll be back as soon as I can. In the meantime if you think of anything you haven't told me, ask if you can telephone. If they won't let you phone, write. I've brought you plenty of writing paper and pens.'

‘Not cheap straight single shaft biros?'

‘I believe they are. Why?'

‘You're naïve for an ex-copper, Uncle Dan. Governor won't allow us to have them because they make good bongs.'