The Borrowdale Body, page 15
‘So?’ said Simmy.
‘I don’t know. I just think we’re wasting time somehow. We haven’t really got anywhere with all that talk, have we?’
‘We’ve got everything down in one place,’ said Ben. ‘And we’ve identified a few more connections we hadn’t got before. Plus names. What we haven’t got is anything on Jennifer Reade. She really is completely off the grid.’
‘You must have something from when she first commissioned you to sell all the house contents,’ said Simmy.
Ben shook his head. ‘No. it was all through her solicitor. We barely heard from her at all. It didn’t seem odd, at first. We all thought she was an eccentric old woman who couldn’t face the hassle. Then the solicitor told Fiona she was only thirty or so, which made us change our impression a bit.’
‘I was stunned to see her at the house,’ said Christopher. ‘They told us for definite that she wasn’t going to come up here in person. Something must have happened to change her mind.’
‘Another question.’ Ben made a note. ‘Who did she know? Who did she speak to? And what on earth happened between Wednesday and Friday?’
‘She seemed to know what she was doing. I mean – she wasn’t shy or nervous or out of her depth – not much anyway. Perhaps at the start she was a bit off balance,’ said Christopher. ‘She was surprised to see me, and didn’t seem to know what to do with me. But she soon got to grips with everything, so I felt like I was an intruder, with no business to be there. And then later on she talked me into staying quiet about the body. Well, you know all that already.’ He subsided into a state of gloomy confusion. ‘I think the police think I’m a bit of a fool. Too dim to have done a murder, even.’
They all laughed kindly at this, and made reassuring noises. ‘You and Moxon both,’ said Simmy fondly. ‘I like my men to be a bit dim.’
‘Corinne always says that about dogs,’ said Bonnie. ‘The clever ones are a real pain.’
Nobody picked up the reference to my men. It had long been accepted, even by Christopher, that Simmy and Moxon had a bit of a thing between them.
‘All right,’ said Ben assertively. ‘Let’s pack it in for today. Bonnie’s staying over in Keswick, so what about tomorrow? What do you say we all go back to Borrowdale? If there are ever going to be any proper clues, that’s got to be where we’d find them.’
Simmy quailed. ‘With Robin? And the dog? All of us? It’ll be heaving with hikers. We’ll never find anywhere to park.’ She had another thought. ‘And my dad’s going to want to come as well.’
‘We’ll use the bus,’ said Ben. ‘It leaves from Keswick. We can get an early one and beat the crowd.’
‘Oh, God!’ said Christopher with full melodrama. He put his head in his hands for good measure. ‘We’ll need a whole bus just to ourselves, at this rate.’
‘My mother won’t want to come,’ said Simmy, as if this offered any reassurance.
Chapter Fifteen
Somewhat against Simmy’s expectations, the entire group was boarding the Borrowdale bus soon after nine next morning. The sky was clear, and had been for the past four hours or more. Robin was co-operative, unlike Cornelia, who had never experienced a bus before.
After a short drive down the quiet country road, with dense woodland on both sides, they were set down close to the bridge leading into Grange.
‘This is where Robin did his amazing walk,’ said Simmy. ‘He hasn’t done that many steps since. I think he needs an audience.’ She observed the cafe and the church and the old school as they walked in a gaggle up the road towards High Gates. ‘I can’t help feeling this is rather silly,’ she said. ‘What can we possibly hope to find? The house belongs to someone else now, presumably. It’ll have police tape all over it, as well.’
‘I imagine the sale never got properly completed,’ said Christopher. ‘It was still not quite done on Wednesday. Unless Jennifer and her solicitor got cracking on Thursday, it must still be in limbo.’
‘You can sign documents remotely now,’ said Ben.
‘Not if you don’t have the technology, like Miss Reade,’ said Bonnie.
‘Right. I forgot.’ The boy waggled his head in bemusement. ‘I can’t think how that’s possible. How did she ever communicate with anyone?’
‘Landline. Postcards. Carrier pigeons,’ said Russell, who was cheerfully enjoying the unexpected day out, grateful to be invited. ‘I don’t know how I can be of any use,’ he had demurred. ‘But I’d love to come, if you’ll have me.’
‘Another pair of eyes,’ said Simmy vaguely.
‘I like the idea of carrier pigeons,’ said Ben now. ‘If I was a terrorist, that’s what I’d use.’
‘I don’t think anybody’s imagining terrorism is a part of this,’ said Christopher, humourlessly.
‘I never said it was,’ argued Ben.
‘Stop being so literal, both of you,’ said Simmy. ‘How far are we going to walk?’
‘We could get all the way to Honister, if we make a day of it,’ said Russell. ‘It’s glorious up there.’
‘That’s miles,’ moaned Bonnie. ‘Uphill all the way.’
‘And it’s in the opposite direction,’ Ben observed. ‘We’re going north, and it’s down to the south, behind us.’
‘Of course, I knew that,’ blustered Russell, clearly disconcerted.
‘I got confused about that as well,’ Simmy consoled him. ‘It feels wrong, somehow. But it all hinges on the river. You have to go back over the bridge to get to Seatoller and all those places.’
‘There isn’t much on this side,’ added Christopher.
‘Even so,’ argued Russell, ‘it can’t be very far. And the bus must go all round everywhere picking up tired hikers.’
‘You do realise that the reason we’re all here is for Ben and Bonnie to see the house for themselves, don’t you?’ said Christopher impatiently. ‘It’s as simple as that.’
‘Sorry,’ said Russell meekly. ‘I was only thinking it’s a fine June Sunday and we can all benefit from a nice day out.’
‘That’s right,’ said Simmy. ‘Trust my dad to see the positive side.’
‘We seem to be ahead of the crowd, anyway,’ said Bonnie staring up at the fell to their left. ‘I thought the place would be swarming with hikers. I can’t see anybody.’
Everyone looked. The scrubby ground rose steeply behind the few scattered houses and gardens that lined the road. Pathways threaded between the rocky outcrops and sheep grazed the short grass almost to the top. Lambs gathered in small groups, constantly nagged by their watchful mothers.
‘You must be able to see Derwentwater from up there,’ said Ben.
‘And beyond,’ Russell confirmed. ‘You can really watch the world go by. I remember I sat up there with Simmy’s mother for a whole afternoon, about twelve years ago now. I haven’t been back here since. Although … it was probably on the other road, now I think about it. I don’t think I’ve ever been on this one before.’
They were progressing very slowly up the gentle hill out of Grange. Five adults, a child and a dog made a fair-sized group straggling across the little road; almost no traffic went past. The sun had not climbed very far above the high ridge to their east. Simmy kept pausing to look around.
‘It still feels as if we’re going south, for some reason, although I know we can’t be. The river runs into Derwentwater, and I know that’s to the north.’ She sighed. ‘And I thought I was really getting the hang of how it all worked by now.’
Ben and Russell both opened their mouths to enlighten her, but Christopher forestalled them.
‘We’ve done the geography already. Let’s stick to the main business, okay?’ He was pale and stiff, walking ahead of the others. ‘The house is just round the next bend.’
Simmy tried to recall their first walk from the village to High Gates, thinking it had been further than just around the next bend. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked. ‘We haven’t gone very far yet.’
‘Two bends at most.’ His voice was thick and shaky.
‘Hey!’ Simmy hurried to catch him up, past Russell who was in charge of Robin’s buggy. ‘You look as if you’re having a flashback or something. We don’t have to do this, you know. Not if it’s going to get you in a state.’
‘Yes we do. It’s too late to abandon it now. You’re right, probably, that it’s all very stupid, but it’s gone too far, and now it feels horribly serious, all of a sudden. I guess it wasn’t quite real before. I keep seeing that rat.’
‘Rat?’ echoed Bonnie. ‘Nobody said anything about a rat. Where?’
‘Don’t make me explain it again now,’ begged Christopher. He stopped walking and took some breaths. ‘Actually – Bonnie, Russell – do you think you could hang back a bit, with the dog, when we get there? I know we can’t go in or anything, but I’ll get clearer in my head if I’m not surrounded with you lot. Okay?’
‘No problem,’ said Bonnie, oozing understanding and compassion. ‘I know how these things can get to you.’
Russell was not so generous. ‘So, can we have a look after you’ve done your soul-searching? What’s come over you, man?’
‘Dad, have a bit of patience. You sound like Mum. Two people died right here, less than a week ago, and Chris was right in the middle of it. Give him some space – that’s all he’s asking.’
‘Right, right. Sorry. I forgot.’ The elderly man wheeled the buggy violently to one side. ‘I’ll keep out of the way, then.’
‘No need for that,’ said Bonnie, putting a hand on his arm. ‘It’s only that everything got a bit real for Christopher just then. We can all have a good long look, if that’s what we want – after he’s done what he came to do. He’s the only witness to what happened on Wednesday, so it’s important he tries to get the memories straight, don’t you think? That is why we’re here, you know. I’m keeping right out of it, as well. Although I’m not scared of rats. I quite like them, in a way.’
‘Clever little beasts,’ Russell grudgingly agreed. ‘Angie says that’s why people fear them. They feel like a kind of competition for domination. Like ants.’
‘Right,’ said Bonnie vaguely, flashing a smug smile at Ben. ‘So, we’re all right again, aren’t we?’
Russell was rueful. ‘Forgot myself for a moment,’ he mumbled. ‘I thought all that sort of thing was over and done with, but it catches up with me now and then.’
Simmy heard some of this, despite her attention being almost entirely on her husband. Her father had gone through a spell of neurosis two years or so before, exhibiting severe anxiety and compulsive behaviour. Therapy and medication had calmed him down, identifying the probable cause as the loss of Simmy’s first baby and the exhausting rigours of running a Bed and Breakfast guesthouse with little or no respite. But it had aged him more than his family fully realised, and there were still moments of confusion and anger.
They walked on for two or three minutes and there, somehow darker and larger than before, was High Gates House. In front of it were not only two lengths of police tape, but gates that must have been closed with a determined effort, and a police car parked inside them, containing two officers. Standing in the road outside were four people.
‘Uh-oh,’ said Ben.
‘Now we’re a crowd,’ muttered Bonnie. ‘Gawpers. This is embarrassing.’
Christopher had stopped dead. ‘They’ll recognise me,’ he said softly. ‘It’s worse than embarrassing.’ He looked at Bonnie with a ghastly smile. ‘Help!’
‘We’ve every right to be here,’ said Ben stoutly. ‘Out for a day with kid and dog. That sort of thing.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Russell. Simmy was forced to agree with him.
‘Do you know them?’ she asked Christopher, nodding at the officers in the car.
‘I can’t see them properly. But they’ll know me, won’t they? I’ve been in that blasted police station for hours since Friday. They’ve all had a good look at me. We should have known there’d be someone here.’
‘Not necessarily,’ said Ben. ‘What do they hope to achieve?’ He stared at the car, and went on slowly, ‘They’re standing guard. Presumably the place is stuck between owners, and there’s legal considerations. But that’s not the job of the police.’
‘They’re doing what Moxon did in Askham,’ Simmy realised. ‘Showing a presence, in case somebody wants to come and tell them something. It’s easier to do it out here than in the Penrith station. It’s a bit like an incident room, only in a car.’
‘Except they’ve shut the gates, which can’t have been easy. One of them’s missing a hinge, look. How would anyone get in?’
Christopher was hanging back, completely flummoxed. ‘They’d let anyone in if they thought they had something to tell them,’ he said. ‘Obviously.’
The four people who had been there before them were shamelessly watching and listening to all this, shuffling excitedly at the dawning realisation that the newcomers might actually have some involvement in recent events. Quite how this had become apparent was unclear to Simmy, but there was little doubt – and the explanation was soon forthcoming.
‘You’re the auctioneer!’ accused one man. ‘This affects you, doesn’t it. I heard they cancelled the auction on Friday.’
‘Are you local?’ Ben asked, scanning the foursome. ‘You don’t look like hikers.’
‘Jill works at the hotel down there, and I’ve got a shop in town,’ said the man, nudging the woman at his side. ‘These two are from the slate mine museum. They need to get back to work in a minute.’
‘You haven’t walked all the way from there, have you?’ asked Russell.
A woman shook her head. ‘Car’s in a gateway just back there.’ She nodded up the hill. ‘Just wanted to come and see what the fuss was about.’
‘So you’re not here to help the police, then?’ Russell went on, with increasing belligerence. ‘Just gawping, so to speak?’
‘Dad,’ sighed Simmy, at the same time unable to repress a flash of admiration. He was, after all, speaking for them all.
‘I knew Sir John,’ said the original man. ‘Nice old chap. Lonely. He’ll be spinning in his grave with all this carry-on.’
‘Serves him right,’ said the Jill person. ‘He should have made a proper will and saved everyone a whole lot of bother. If you ask me, there’d never have been a murder if he’d done it right.’
‘The auction isn’t cancelled. Just postponed,’ said Christopher.
‘Must be a right old hassle for you, then. All that stuff sitting there like that. My mate Joe wanted to bid on some rugs. Came all the way from Leeds for them, he did, and now he’s gone back empty-handed, saying he won’t bother again.’
‘He can bid online,’ said Ben.
The man gave him a withering look. ‘You don’t know Joe,’ he said. ‘Thinks computers give out poison waves that rot your brain. Won’t go near the things.’
‘Not another one,’ sighed Ben. Bonnie poked him gently, warning him not to say any more.
Robin chose that moment to make it very plain that he had had enough. The buggy was too confining, the people too boring and his immediate prospects too unappealing for him to tolerate.
‘Hey … hey … hey!’ he shouted and drummed his heels on the footbar.
More people were approaching, walking up the hill out of Grange as Simmy’s party had done. There would soon be a veritable crowd loitering mindlessly outside the gates.
‘We can’t stay here,’ Simmy said quietly to her husband. ‘It’s horrible – and it’ll get worse. There’ll be people like this hanging around all day. Oh!’
She had recognised the couple coming up the road, as they got closer. ‘Isn’t that …? The people at the cafe in Grange, remember?’
‘Bloody hell, that’s all we need.’
Steve – the man was called Steve, and he knew about mining and geology and who knew what else. The woman had been patronising. They had got the bus out of Keswick on the day they’d met, and presumably had done the same thing again today. We’re here for a week, he had said. The way it all came back to her was a surprise. Was Christopher experiencing a similar total recall of his encounter with Jennifer Reade? Being in the same geographical location did seem to be an effective prompt, at least in Simmy’s case.
There was no hope of going unrecognised by the couple, given the presence of Robin and Cornelia. There was a gleam of triumph in the woman’s eye.
‘You again!’ she cried. ‘Fancy that!’
‘Hello,’ said Simmy.
The original people paused their intended departure at the prospect of something interesting. ‘You know each other?’ asked the man with the shop. ‘How come?’
Nobody answered.
‘Hurry up, Phil,’ said the Jill woman. ‘We’re really late now.’ In submission to her will, the four of them walked off with no more than a few feeble waves of hands.
Ben and Bonnie were eyeing the newcomers curiously, trying to guess where they fitted, having heard what Simmy had said, but still not clear. Christopher’s words, however, had been enough of a clue as to how to behave. Bonnie bent over Robin, talking at him in an effort to appease him. Russell took the dog to the other side of the road, where she found something interesting to sniff. A sense of aimless dithering prevailed, which could only frustrate Steve and his missus.
Except it didn’t. It would take more than that to deter the man, who started to talk urgently.
‘The thing is, we know the people who found the dying woman on Friday. They’re staying at the same guesthouse as us, as luck would have it. They’re a gay couple from Essex. Bert and Lawrence. Lovely people. Awful thing, though. Hit them badly, it did. They cancelled the rest of the holiday because of it. It wasn’t until last night that we got the story from the landlady. It was all on the news, of course. I expect you saw it. Well, it’s human nature to come back for a look, isn’t it? Here you are, with the same idea. I mean – look at that house. Could be something from The Munsters. Edgar Allen Poe. That sort of thing. All dark and gloomy and full of ghosts.’
