The Unburied Past (28 page)

‘Well, I reckon we've got 'em red-handed,' he said with satisfaction. ‘Mark used a long-focus zoom so the faces should be identifiable. All we have to do now is track down who they belong to.'

He lifted a pile of prints from the table and sifted through them. Kirsty moved closer, leaning in to look as Graham handed over the first he'd selected. ‘This is the start of the action,' he said.

The scene appeared to have been taken from a hill above Lake Belvedere, showing the lake bathed in watery sunshine. A boat bobbed at its edge, and on the bank three men stood facing each other, one with his back to the camera.

Adam's eyes narrowed suddenly. ‘Is that a fishing line? There, propped against that rock? God, Kirsty! One of them must be Tony Vine!'

Graham flashed him a look of enquiry, but they were already passing to the next print, in which a man was gesticulating. By the scene after that he'd closed in to confront one of the others, his stance aggressive.

‘Now look at this,' Graham said grimly.

They flicked through the remaining prints in shocked silence as the grim sequence played out – the punch, Vine on the ground, the raised rock, the actual blow, the third man belatedly hanging on to the attacker's arm. But the shot of that third man kneeling beside him, his face raised, provoked an instantaneous and horrified reaction.

‘God, I
recognize
him!' Adam exclaimed.

And Kirsty: ‘The photo at Mrs Ferris's! Adam, it's her second husband! Oh, that poor woman!'

‘You're not saying you
know
that man?' Graham demanded in amazement.

‘Not personally, thank God.' Adam's voice was shaking. ‘But we can tell you his name. It's Dean Ferris.'

‘Then we've got him!' Triumph rang in Graham's voice.

‘He wasn't the killer,' Kirsty pointed out, but he dismissed the mitigation.

‘Believe me, he's no innocent. See what happens next.' And he handed over the final two prints: the inert body being heaved into the boat and the two men rowing out into the lake.

‘Murder most foul,' he summarized. ‘Now, tell me how the hell you've managed to identify two of the three men.'

Sue, who'd been hovering quietly in the background, came in with a tea trolley. ‘I thought you'd be in need of something after all that,' she said. ‘Sit down and relax for a while, and you can go through the rest of the photos. They brought back so many memories to Graham and me, seeing you as we knew you all those years ago. There aren't any of Mark, unfortunately, him being the photographer – it's the same in our family – but there are one or two of Emma, bless her.'

So, still shaken and disbelieving, they looked at the remainder of the prints, nearly all of which had been taken at the fête, while the hot tea served to diminish their shock, as Sue had intended. And they explained about Tony Vine's disappearance on the crucial day and their visit to his widow, now Mrs Dean Ferris.

‘So what's the next step?' Graham asked.

‘We take the film to DI Fleming,' Adam replied promptly.

‘Will it be enough to nail them?' Kirsty asked.

‘Enough to bring them in for questioning, that's for sure,' Graham pronounced. ‘Any idea who the third man was?'

‘No, but he and Ferris must be close, if not before this happened then certainly after, though it's possible he could have died in the interim.'

‘It's Mrs Ferris who I feel sorry for,' Kirsty commented. ‘Imagine discovering you're married to someone who saw your first husband murdered and helped to tip him in the lake! You're right, Graham, he's almost equally to blame. Even if he didn't strike the blow, he helped dispose of the body and kept quiet all these years. For that matter he might have been the one who killed Mum and Dad.'

‘They must have spotted Mark when they were out on the lake,' Graham surmised. ‘Though how the hell they knew who he was or how to find him, God knows. I doubt if
we
ever shall.'

‘But why kill Mum too?' Kirsty demanded, a catch in her voice. ‘What had she ever done to them?'

They stayed talking it over for another half hour, then Adam got to his feet. ‘I must get back – there's a staff meeting at eight. We can't thank you enough, Graham, for producing these for us.'

‘To say you're welcome is an understatement. I'll be waiting with bated breath for the next instalment.'

‘How soon can we go back?' Kirsty asked, as they drove away from the house. ‘Will we have to wait for the weekend? I can manage anytime, but—'

‘It can't be tomorrow, unfortunately,' Adam said. ‘I have wall-to-wall classes, but Friday's free. We could make an early start then.'

‘Couldn't we fly up, rather than face that long drive again?'

He shook his head. ‘The nearest airport's miles from Hawkston; it would mean all the hassle of arranging for a hire car and still having to drive fifty-odd miles. Not worth it.'

‘I'll book rooms at the George, then. Will you phone Fleming in advance?'

‘No. I'd rather see his face when we hand him the prints. If the other man's local, he's sure to know him.'

‘Friday it is, then,' she said.

They set off at nine. It was a dark, dreary morning and the traffic was unexpectedly heavy.

‘I'd hoped with it's not being half term the roads might be quieter,' Adam said. ‘Not that we can do much about it.'

The miles slid past with frustrating slowness and it was increasingly difficult to control their impatience. In need of hot food and a brief respite, they made an unscheduled stop for lunch and felt the better for it, especially since as they drove north again the weather began to improve. The mist cleared and a thin, wintry sun shone from a colourless sky. A good omen, perhaps.

‘Suppose Fleming isn't on duty?' Kirsty asked at one point.

‘Suppose no such thing,' Adam returned shortly.

‘You're still not going to ring and check?'

‘No; I want to take him by surprise, see his reaction.'

It was a quarter to four when they drove into the car park at the George Hotel and, tired and stiff, went in to register and leave their overnight bags.

‘A quick freshen-up, then full speed ahead for the police station,' Adam instructed, leaving her at the door to her room.

‘Aye, aye, sir!'

As she brushed her hair, Kirsty glanced at her reflection in the mirror. What would have happened before she looked at it again? An impatient tap cut short her musings and she hurried to rejoin her brother.

‘Sorry, sir, DI Fleming's not in his office.'

‘Do you know where he is?' Adam asked shortly.

‘'Fraid not, sir.'

‘Well, please could you find him? We need to see him urgently.'

‘Perhaps DS Black could help? He—'

‘Sorry, no; it must be the DI. He knows the background to this.'

‘I'll see if I can trace him, sir. If you'd care to take a seat?'

Unwillingly, Adam and Kirsty seated themselves on the hard chairs in the foyer. It was some minutes before they were called back to the desk.

‘I'm afraid DI Fleming's out of the building, sir.'

Adam swore softly. ‘But he is coming back?'

‘He's expected, yes, sir, but not before five o'clock at the earliest.'

‘We'll wait.'

‘Very good, sir. I'll order some tea for you.'

‘This wouldn't have happened if you'd made an appointment,' Kirsty complained.

‘It's not long to wait – only an hour or so.'

‘Five at the earliest, he said. It could be six or even seven.'

‘Then we'll send out for soup and sandwiches,' Adam replied, poker-faced, and with a shrug she resignedly picked up a magazine and started to flick through the pages.

DI Fleming came striding through the door at five minutes to six, stopping short on seeing them sitting there. Adam and Kirsty rose as one, and after a momentary hesitation he came towards them.

‘Miss Marriott, Mr Carstairs! This is a surprise! I thought you'd gone home long since!'

‘Oh, we had, Mr Fleming, but we have some important new evidence for you.'

‘Evidence?'

‘Concerning the death of Tony Vine and in all likelihood our parents' as well.'

Fleming shook his head in bewilderment. ‘We discussed all this, and I thought I explained—'

‘Please, Inspector. We've something of vital importance to show you.'

He glanced impatiently at his watch. ‘Very well, you'd better come in here.' He opened the nearest door and ushered them into a small room containing four chairs and a table.

‘Now, what have you got?'

Adam laid the last ten prints of the film on the table. ‘If you remember, we mentioned a man who'd gone missing the day of our parents' murder, and you said you'd look into it. Perhaps you'd like to run through these. They were taken by our father shortly before his death.'

Fleming threw him a startled glance, then picked up the prints and they watched his face change as he went through them.

‘Where did you get these?' he asked in a strangled voice.

‘My father had removed the film, so although the killers took the camera, they never got their hands on it. Either he or my mother hid it in one of my sister's toys. We found it quite by chance last week and a friend of his was able to develop it.'

The detective was still staring unbelievingly at the prints, going from one to another and back again.

‘We're pretty sure Tony Vine, the missing man, is the one being killed, and we recognized Dean Ferris as one of the others.' He paused. ‘Do you know the third man?'

‘His brother Barry,' Fleming said dully, almost to himself. Then, ‘But … this is unbelievable! Can you vouch for the authenticity of the film?'

‘I'd say it's beyond question, but if you need verification you could contact Graham Yates, who developed it for us. And you did say you still had samples taken from the cottage; all you'd have to do is compare them with the Ferrises' DNA.'

‘Thank you, Mr Carstairs, I don't think I need you to tell me my job,' Fleming said stiffly, adding in a more conciliatory tone, ‘but I do understand you need to clear this up, and I assure you we'll set wheels in motion straight away.'

‘We have to leave on Sunday, but here's my card. You will keep us informed?'

Fleming nodded briskly. ‘You'll be updated with progress under the Victims' Charter, when, for instance, someone is arrested or charged or appears in court.' He sat back in his chair, shaking his head. ‘I have to say you seem to have stumbled on something quite extraordinary, but I must stress that it is now in the hands of the police. You may be sure it will be thoroughly followed up.'

He stood, holding out his hand to each in turn. ‘Thank you very much for bringing this to our attention.'

I
t wasn't their best game of golf, as the Ferris brothers were only too aware; nor did the weather conditions help. There was a persistent drizzle that every now and then intensified into a heavy shower, making it more a feat of endurance than an enjoyable pastime. In addition, their anxiety about the proposed meeting with Tony made it an effort to respond to the usual joking comments of their competitors.

To add to their frustration, the bar lunch was considerably lengthened by their being joined by another group of friends from whom it was difficult to break away, and it was consequently well after three thirty before they could escape. Barry made straight for the pay phone in a corridor behind the bar.

‘Hello?' It was Marilyn's voice.

Instinctively, he deepened his voice slightly. ‘Could I speak to Tony Vine, please?'

‘I'm sorry, he isn't in.'

Barry hesitated. Dean nudged him, and he continued, ‘What time are you expecting him back?'

‘I don't know exactly; he's gone fishing. But he won't be very late, because we're going out for dinner.' A pause. ‘May I give him a message?'

‘I – no, it's not important.'

‘May I ask who's calling?'

So she hadn't recognized his voice. Barry said quickly, ‘He won't remember my name. We met at a conference, and as I'm in the area I thought we might have a drink together …'

‘Well, I'm sorry, but if you'd like to call back tomorrow?'

‘Yes, I'll do that. Sorry to have troubled you.' And he quickly put the phone down.

‘Why all the cloak and dagger?' Dean enquired.

Barry shrugged. ‘Didn't want to go into why I was phoning on a Sunday. She said he's out fishing.'

‘He'll be at Lake Belvedere,' Dean said. ‘That's where he always goes.' An idea struck him. ‘We could corner him there.'

‘God, Dean, do you know how big that lake is? How the hell would we find him?'

‘It's worth a try. Otherwise it'll have to be at work tomorrow, which could be awkward.' He checked his watch. ‘We'd better get a move on, though, if we're going out there; it's nearly an hour's drive, and he could have packed up and left by the time we get there.'

Barry came to a decision. ‘Right, let's give it a go.'

They barely spoke on the drive, each busy with his own thoughts. At least the weather had improved, and a weak sun was glinting on the wet roads. By the time they drew into the parking place it was almost four thirty. Only one other car stood in the normally busy space, and to their relief they recognized it as Tony's. At least he was still here.

In fact, as they rounded the corner of the hill bordering the lake, they saw him almost at once a few hundred yards away, a solitary figure motionless on the bank, rod in hand. Quickening their footsteps, they hurried through the wet grass, and only when they were within feet of him did he become aware of them.