The Shrouded Path Read online

  The van bounced out of Cold Eaton but as soon as it began to climb, the engine growled and the clutch squealed as Mina progressed down the gears. Bought second-hand five years ago, it was showing signs of its age. Perhaps she could afford a new one with the money Hilary would be leaving her. She would make sure it was the same colour with identical lettering. It would just be less of a faff getting around the Peaks. At the brow of the hill, she passed three small cottages, two of which looked shut up, probably holiday lets closed for the season. A painted sign next to a five-bar gate announced she was at Hallows Farm and the track leading to the house looked decent enough, more suited to a four by four but without any perilous-looking potholes. She was wrong. About halfway down, the track deteriorated and the van lurched to one side and stayed there.

  Mina got out of the van. There didn’t appear to be any damage done but one wheel had sunk into the pothole. She’d need a push to get out of it and here was an excuse as good as any to knock on the door. She set off down the track and a dog barked as it picked up her approach.

  ‘Hello!’

  No one answered her call and Mina was relieved to see that the dog was chained up although he was straining on the leash, his barks reverberating around the yard. She went up to the front door and banged on it hard with her fist. The door remained shut and, as she looked around her, Mina realised that there were no other vehicles on the drive. Whoever owned the farm was out. She made her way back down the drive, past her van and came out onto the road.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ A woman was standing in the doorway of the only cottage that looked inhabited.

  ‘I’ve got my van stuck in one of the potholes on the drive to the farm. I need a push.’

  ‘Hold on.’ The woman retreated. ‘Gerry!’ Moments later, a man appeared pulling a jumper over his head.

  ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘The lady’s van’s stuck on the Hallows’ drive.’

  ‘Let me have a look.’ He followed Mina up the drive, trying to damp down his tousled hair. ‘It’s a bloody mess this path. I keep telling them to fix it. I even offered them some gravel to put in the holes.’

  ‘I’m well and truly stuck.’

  He leant under the van to look at the wheel. ‘No damage done. I think I’ll push you from the front if you can hop in and put the gears in reverse.’

  Mina slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Gerry expertly rocked the van until it was out of the hole then, standing to her side, shouted instructions so she was able to back up down the track. She wound down her window to thank him.

  ‘Who was it you were wanting to see?’

  ‘I was looking for the girl, Catherine.’

  ‘Catherine? It’s a Friday, she’ll either be at school or wandering around somewhere.’ He looked across to the woman. ‘She’s looking for Cathy, Mum.’ The woman shrugged and went back inside. ‘Wasn’t Lorna in the house?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t think so. Her car wasn’t there.’

  ‘It sounds like they’re both out. Can I give them a message?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Well, if you don’t mind. I just wanted to thank Catherine for visiting my mum in hospital. She died this week and, well, I wanted to let her know too.’

  ‘Died?’ He looked across at the closed door of his mother’s house. ‘Maybe I should let Lorna know and get her to tell Cathy. Cathy’s only young. It’s hard getting news like that.’

  ‘I’m staying down at the village at the moment, if she wants to talk to me. I’ve a room at The Nettle Inn.’

  ‘I’ll let them know.’ He moved away, keen to get back to the warmth of the house.

  ‘Can I ask you something?’ she shouted after him. ‘Is she related to the Valerie Hallows buried in Cold Eaton?’

  ‘Who?’ He peered closer at her. ‘Oh, yes. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I saw the grave, that’s all, and I made the connection.’

  ‘All the Hallows are from up around here. Cold Eaton’s where they go to get buried. There aren’t many Hallows left now.’ He glanced at her and saw Mina flinch at his words. ‘I’m sorry to hear about your mum. I’ll be sure to let Lorna know so that she can tell Catherine.’

  ‘You will tell Lorna, though, I can speak to Catherine if it helps.’

  ‘I’ll do that. Be careful about asking about the grave, though. Catherine is currently obsessed with her ancestors. Last year it was the history of the gallows here, this year it’s her family.’

  ‘The gallows?’ Mina couldn’t keep the horror out of her voice.

  ‘They used to hang poachers on that low you can see over there. Some say there’s been some ghostly sightings and Catherine wanted to know all the stories about the place. I was more than happy to oblige.’

  ‘You haven’t seen a ghost yourself?’

  ‘Of course not but there is a strange energy up here. Then Lorna came around and asked me not to tell any more stories as Catherine couldn’t sleep at night.’

  ‘And now she’s asking about her family.’

  Gerry turned to go. ‘Teenagers are a mystery to me.’ He made a grimace. ‘As I said, perhaps it’d be better not to ask about the grave.’

  42

  It was late on Friday evening. The team dispersed after their meeting but both Dahl and Connie gravitated towards Sadler’s office. Connie made to shut the door but Sadler shook his head.

  ‘Get Matthews in here too.’

  ‘But—’ Connie caught sight of Sadler’s face and went in search of Matthews who was putting on her coat.

  ‘We’re having a wash-up in Sadler’s office. Do you want to come?’

  ‘Me?’ Matthews took off her coat and replaced it on the hanger.

  Connie was shocked to see tears in Matthews’s eyes. ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘I just thought I’d shot my bolt again. Story of my life.’

  Ashamed, Connie couldn’t look at her. ‘You’ve got your own way of doing things, that’s all.’

  A Chinese takeaway arrived and Sadler cleared his desk so they could spread the foil containers across it. Connie expected Dahl to make an excuse to leave early but he was tucking into the fried rice as if he hadn’t eaten for days.

  Sadler drummed his chopsticks on his desk. ‘No news yet on the saline drip. I’ve no idea what’s taking them so long. But we have six nursing staff on Oncology B ward who had access to Hilary Kemp on Wednesday morning. We also have the breakfast team. No visitors but various other hospital personnel, such as dieticians, who passed through the ward that morning.’

  ‘Plus we have someone of interest, Catherine Hallows, the teenage hospital visitor identified by Mina Kemp,’ said Dahl, shovelling rice into his mouth. ‘I can’t say if she visited that morning, though.’

  Connie took a swig from her can of Coke. ‘I think it’s an important line of enquiry that we need to explore. Catherine visited Hilary in hospital in the week before her death but appears to have done so without other hospital staff noticing. This is a girl who can access hospital rooms undetected. It’s also interesting that Mina gave the impression of wanting me to check out Catherine, although I’m not sure why she was so interested.’

  ‘She’s fourteen so a responsible adult will need to be present when we interview her. We’re planning to go back to the hospital on Monday,’ said Dahl.

  ‘How is Mina?’ asked Sadler.

  ‘She’s grieving and very protective over her mother, which is natural. I also get the impression she’s holding things back but it’s hard to identify anything specific.’

  Sadler nodded. ‘I think it’s possibly significant that Mina is worried about Catherine in some way. Surely, though, a schoolgirl isn’t going to have the means to get hold of drugs.’

  ‘It’s unlikely but not impossible,’ said Matthews. ‘We’ve not identified any reason why she would want to harm Hilary Kemp either.’

  ‘Should we look into this?’ asked Connie. ‘I can do some digging into the family, although
Mina doesn’t think the girl was able to see Hilary in the last few days of her life. Mina specifically asked that only she be given access to her mother.’

  ‘Interesting that Catherine was still trying to talk to Hilary, though,’ pointed out Matthews.

  ‘Shall I take this forward?’ asked Connie.

  ‘Please.’ Sadler put down his chopsticks. ‘In the meantime, we have St Bertram’s on heightened security, which won’t be immediately evident to visitors over the weekend. We’re keeping the news contained. I briefed the comms team today and there’s been no sniff of it in any media outlets. Let’s try to keep it that way this weekend at least.’

  ‘You don’t want us to put any overtime in?’ asked Connie, desperate to avoid a lonely weekend.

  Sadler shook his head. ‘Not for the moment. I need those toxicology results. A tampered drip is one thing. I want to know if it contributed to her death.’

  Connie sighed and threw her carton in the bin. ‘That’s it, I’m done.’

  ‘What about the connection to Nell Colley and Ingrid Neale?’ asked Matthews. ‘According to Connie we now know that Hilary knew Ingrid.’

  ‘What about Nell?’ asked Dahl.

  Connie sighed. ‘The photo I took on my phone is shit.’ She reached into her handbag and passed it to Dahl. She could see him squinting at it. ‘I should have taken the original photo off Mina, but she said she’d found it amongst her mother’s things so it was hard to demand it from a grieving relative without going into the specifics of our suspicions.’

  ‘I can’t even see their faces, just five blurry figures.’

  ‘I know. I was taking the photo and the phone rang. Mina said she’d email me a scan of the photo today.’ Irritated, Connie took back the phone.

  Sadler began to neatly stack the containers in the paper bag that came with the delivery. ‘Ingrid Neale’s death is going to be very difficult to reopen. She was cremated so there are no remains to subject to toxicology tests. I’ve talked to Bill who’s checked his PM reports. Ingrid had inflammation on her lungs consistent with death from an asthma attack. There’s also no evidence she received any visitors on the day she died. It wouldn’t be considered suspicious if we hadn’t identified a link with Nell Colley.’

  ‘You think Nell’s death is suspicious?’ asked Dahl.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Sadler looked at the remains of the food. ‘Have we found out any information on the book she was writing?’

  ‘Mayfield looked through her bank accounts,’ said Connie, ‘searching for any proof of a laptop purchase because we didn’t find one at the property. She’d have to write her book on something. Her neighbour thought she might have intended to write the memoir out longhand but we didn’t find any evidence of this. Or perhaps she hadn’t yet started it.’

  ‘Possibly the latter, according to her neighbour. Remember she was surprised that Nell kept putting it off,’ said Dahl.

  ‘I know but surely she must have written some kind of notes as she was arranging her ideas. We have two witnesses who confirm that Nell was writing the memoir. The solicitor you met and Nell’s neighbour. So where’s the evidence of it?’

  ‘Perhaps a laptop was bought years ago and has been stolen?’ said Matthews.

  ‘If it’s been stolen where’s everything else? Notes, research material and so on.’

  They looked at each other in silence and Dahl shrugged. ‘I had a good look downstairs.’

  ‘A memoir.’ Matthews leant back in her seat. ‘Why would you put off writing a memoir you’d decided to start?’

  ‘Because it was painful,’ said Connie.

  ‘Precisely,’ said Matthews. ‘If it’s to do with her childhood perhaps Ingrid was involved.’

  ‘Nell could also be another of the girls in the photo,’ said Connie. ‘Once I get that photo I’ll show it to Janet Goodhew. She should be able to recognise her neighbour as a teenager.’

  ‘Can we officially declare the other two cases suspicious?’ asked Matthews.

  ‘I’m going to think about it over the weekend,’ said Sadler.

  ‘But there’s a link.’ Connie’s voice rose. ‘It’s too much coincidence. Dahl and I are looking into two deaths and we find a link with a third confirmed suspicious death.’

  ‘On Monday I’ll talk to Llewellyn.’ Sadler’s voice was firm. ‘Matthews, you’re duty DI this weekend, aren’t you?’ Matthews nodded. ‘Call me if anything comes up. I need to spend time going over the case.’

  ‘Nell’s memoir might hold the key.’ Matthews neatly folded up her foil container and added it to the bag. ‘That’s a book I’d like to read.’

  43

  Falling leaves from the large trees lining the streets of High Oaks had created a mulch of slippery foliage on the pavements that was, officially, the local authority’s problem. However, one of Mina’s regular clients had a front garden directly underneath one of the trees. Mina would happily have stayed in the cocoon she’d created in Cold Eaton but Professor Davey had other ideas. He’d left three messages on her mobile, pleading with her to clear the leaves from his lawn. Every autumn was torture for this avid gardener and he stood on his front step, his face a visage of agony.

  ‘Will it affect the spring bulbs?’

  Mina sighed. The same question every year. ‘It shouldn’t do. I’ll hoover the leaves up in no time.’

  ‘Can’t you do it by hand? There’s less chance of damaging the plants underneath.’

  ‘I’m not so sure about that. The air won’t touch the stems if I use the machine. It’s a tried and tested method.’

  She passed Professor Davey the end of her extension lead and she could hear it being plugged in down the hall. Mina had never once been inside the house despite this being the third autumn where they’d had the debate on whether she should be clearing leaves by hand. He was clearly a man who valued his privacy, a young fogey if that was the right word. For Professor Davey, despite his academic achievements, was barely forty and an expert on the Romans in Derbyshire, unusual plants and keeping his house away from prying eyes.

  Mina tested the garden hoover and, putting it on its lowest setting, began with the leaves on the small patch of grass near the bay window. She was aware of him standing watching her and turned her back on him. Once the grass was done, she moved to the side bed, carefully hoovering around each plant. When she had removed the majority of the leaves, she retrieved her rake and began on the hard to reach bits. She looked up at the professor. He nodded at a woman who was passing along the pavement and retreated into the house.

  After she was done, she sat in her van and typed the name that Connie had mentioned to her into her phone. Nell Colley. An address came up on 192.com from the electoral register but it was behind a paywall. Mina took her debit card from her wallet and paid for ten credits to reveal an address in one of the nearby streets.

  Outside the house on Pullen Road, she hesitated for a moment. The garden was well kept and empty of leaves. Someone had clearly been doing some gardening, possibly the woman dressed in a dark blue mac and a red bobble hat pulled down over her ears who was picking up rubbish from the pavement.

  Mina wound down the window. ‘Is this where Nell Colley lived?’

  The woman looked up, her face red from exertion. ‘It is. Did you know her?’

  ‘My mum did.’

  ‘You know she passed away?’

  Mina nodded.

  ‘I’m still reeling a bit from it, to be honest. Did I let your mum know? I’m Janet. I wrote to those whose names I found in her address book.’

  Mina shook her head. ‘My mother died recently. I don’t think she was in touch with Nell.’

  ‘Oh no. How did you find out about Nell then?’

  ‘I saw it in the paper,’ Mina lied. ‘I’ve just started looking for some school friends of Mum’s. She might have been able to help me.’

  ‘I’m sorry, love.’

  ‘You didn’t know Nell from school?’

  ‘Me? I’ve live
d in Bampton nearly forty years but I wasn’t brought up here.’

  Mina switched off the engine. ‘Did Nell have any old friends she saw or spoke about?’

  The woman considered. ‘Not that I remember.’

  ‘If I showed you an old photo, do you think you’d recognise Nell?’

  If Janet was surprised, she didn’t show it. Mina reached into the back of her van and pulled out the two photos. She handed over the first and the woman brightened. ‘Is that your mum? What a lovely photo. I remember having one done exactly the same when I was at school.’

  Janet handed the photo back to Mina and took the other one. She squinted at the image, her face brightening. ‘Here she is. Nell.’ She pointed at the girl on the furthest right, her face in profile. She was the tallest of the girls by a few inches, her fair hair curling over her shoulders. Janet turned the photo over.

  ‘GIVEN. What a funny thing to write. Given what? Maybe it’s not “given”, it’s initials. They stand for something like, I don’t know, the girls’ names. G.I.V.E.N. Look at the end. N for Nell.’

  ‘What? Let me have a look.’ Mina took the photo off Janet and looked at it. GIVEN. ‘They’ve moved some of the letters around. The girl on the left is Valerie. You don’t recognise any of the others? This one here, second from the left, is Ingrid.’

  ‘I don’t recognise anyone except Nell. She would have been tickled to have seen herself in those photos. I don’t ever remember her mentioning school. She really kept herself to herself over the years. I’d have loved to show it to her.’

  Mina studied the tall girl with her body turned away from the camera. Nell had clearly done all right in life. High Oaks was a wealthy neighbourhood, well out of the reach of most Peak residents. ‘Did she have a happy life?’

  Janet shrugged. ‘I suppose so. She worked in the solicitor’s in town. She never married but she seemed, well, happy, I suppose. Good luck with sorting everything out with your mum. You might want to print that picture of her at school on the funeral leaflet. Best to remember them like that. In better days.’