The Shrouded Path Read online

  Sadler nodded. ‘It’s a soluble form of morphine.’

  ‘Is it definite that they’d find the drug in Nell Colley’s body if she was given an overdose?’

  ‘Bill says it should be possible to identify raised levels that would constitute a lethal concentration of the drug.’

  ‘What about the other possible victim, Ingrid Neale? Who ordered her cremation?’

  ‘Her family, who say it was stated in Ingrid’s will.’

  Llewellyn sighed. ‘Which leaves us with Nell Colley. You don’t think we should have picked it up before?’

  ‘I don’t think, in this instance, that there was anything to raise our suspicions. But now we have a link between Hilary Kemp and Nell Colley. Given Ingrid Neale’s cremation, we might never be able to fully investigate her death.’

  Llewellyn rubbed his face with his large hands. ‘What do the family say about Nell’s exhumation?’

  ‘There’s no family, just a neighbour who benefits from the will. She’s naturally shocked and was initially resistant to the exhumation but it was put to her in terms that the coroner had ordered it.’

  ‘Not much she could do then. Think it’s significant that she objected?’

  ‘There could be a genuine reason.’

  ‘Letting sleeping dogs lie, I suppose. Who’ll be there?’

  ‘The team: me, Connie, Dahl.’

  ‘Not Matthews?’

  ‘She worked the weekend.’

  Llewellyn grunted. ‘She’s not in a bad mood, is she? She couldn’t honestly have expected to take charge of a complex investigation like this.’

  ‘She can take credit for us initially focusing on Nell Colley. I might have been inclined to sign off the file. Everything was done by the book.’

  ‘Well, Matthews certainly does that. You need one copper like that but hopefully not all of them, otherwise a boring place it would be. Anyone else going to be there?’

  ‘Bill Shields. If we had a suspect, we’d need the defence pathologist there too. It’s not relevant as we’re still in the dark. Bill will be overseeing the medical aspect of the exhumation.’

  Llewellyn looked at his watch. ‘What time did you say tomorrow?’

  ‘Eight a.m.’

  Llewellyn nodded. ‘I’ll be there.’ He leant forward and picked up a report. ‘There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Don’t look so concerned. We made three arrests last night in relation to a spate of burglaries. Caught two of them red handed. A mother and son, would you believe it? The little lad’s ten, nearly eleven. The mother was caught lifting him up ready to climb inside an open bathroom window. The boy must be a contortionist despite his age as, according to the arresting officer, it didn’t look like even a cat could get into the space.’

  ‘Who was the third?’

  ‘The mother’s partner keeping a watch out in the street. One of the neighbours spotted him and called us out. A pretty good result all round, really. It’ll look good on our statistics. The public seems to think we write off burglaries.’

  ‘You mean we don’t?’

  ‘Yes, ha ha, thank you, Sadler. Anyway, the reason I’m mentioning it is I believe your mother’s address is on the list. Same modus operandi – a small window, although it appears they were disturbed before anything was taken. You can let her know that the culprits have been caught.’

  ‘I’ll do that.’

  Llewellyn looked up at the catch in Sadler’s voice. ‘Everything all right?’

  ‘Yes, of course, someone just walked over my grave, that’s all.’

  *

  On his way home from work, Sadler stopped by at his mother’s house. A figure was bending over in the front garden planting spring bulbs in the border with the help of a dibber. Sadler had strong memories of Ginnie doing the same over the years in a different garden. As a boy he had crouched down to help her, solemnly handing her each individual bulb, taking his time whether to select a crocus, narcissus or grape hyacinth for the chosen spot. Once, when he was a teenager, he had come home unexpectedly from school, sent home because he had forgotten his cricket whites, and had found his mother in the kitchen, crying. When he’d asked what was wrong, she’d been brusque, retrieving his clothes from the basket and running a hot iron over them.

  He’d mentioned the incident later to Camilla, who’d muttered something about the change and, confused, he’d not mentioned it again. Mina straightened her back and came face to face with him.

  They looked at each other in astonishment and Sadler noticed that Mina’s hands were shaking as she brushed a coil of hair from her face. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked and her eyes went to the car he’d parked next to the wall. ‘Are you following me?’

  Sadler took in her tired face, flushed not only from the planting but from the strain of recent events. ‘My mother lives here.’

  ‘But a Camilla Stevens called me.’ Mina looked stricken, embarrassed after their weekend meeting.

  ‘That’s my sister. This is my mother’s house. Ginnie Sadler.’

  Mina groaned. ‘I’d actually make a crap detective then.’

  He held his hand out to her and she took it, unashamed of the crumbling soil on her fingers. ‘I didn’t realise it was your mother. Camilla didn’t mention it.’

  ‘No reason why she would. I should have made the connection. There can’t be that many gardeners working in Bampton.’

  ‘There’s just me at this time of year. The other guy broke his foot over the summer fixing a drystone wall.’

  Sadler stared at her for a moment, taking in her wan face and tired eyes. ‘I don’t suppose it matters.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Is Mum in?’

  ‘I think so. I haven’t seen her at all. Camilla showed me the shed, although I have my own tools and I can see what needs doing. I found the spring bulbs and am planting as I clear the weeds.’

  ‘She’s not even brought you a cup of tea?’

  Mina put her hand behind her back and stretched, letting the vertebrae click in relief. ‘Not to worry. Perhaps she doesn’t welcome the help. I always have my own flask anyway.’

  Sadler frowned towards the house. ‘I’ll check she’s okay.’

  Mina turned back to the bulbs, swirling them in the bucket with her hands, her own version of Sadler’s boyhood random selection. Sadler used his key to enter the door.

  ‘Mum?’ He looked to the left and saw Ginnie standing watching Mina at work. ‘Is everything all right?’

  Ginnie looked as if she was in a trance. ‘Who is she?’

  ‘The gardener? She’s called Mina. Camilla asked her to give you a hand.’

  ‘Yes, but who is she?’

  Sadler joined his mother at the window and watched as Mina, unaware of the scrutiny, carried on with her planting.

  ‘She’s called Mina and her company goes by the name of The Land Girl. Haven’t you been out to talk to her yet? I’m sure she’ll do whatever tasks you ask of her.’

  ‘It’s hard seeing your garden in someone else’s hands.’

  ‘I can understand that.’

  ‘Do you know her last name?’

  ‘It’s Kemp. Why? Is it important?’

  Ginnie turned away from the window. ‘You see a lot of people around Bampton. I thought I recognised her, that’s all.’ For the first time she focused on her son. ‘Why are you here? Is everything all right?’

  ‘I was checking on you.’ He looked at his mother but she had moved back to the window and was watching Mina. ‘If you’re concerned about your safety after the break-in, I wanted to let you know that we’ve made some arrests. They were breaking and entering through tiny windows so they were almost certainly responsible for your incident.’

  ‘It was random?’ She looked across at him. ‘I wasn’t targeted?’

  ‘Only targeted in as much as you’d left a window open. Are you sure everything is all right?’

  Ginnie hesitated for a moment. ‘Everyt
hing’s fine.’

  Sadler thought of the tea dance notice. Could he mention that? His mother’s naturally pale skin was even whiter than normal. He found he couldn’t articulate the words. Instead he focused on the tangible. ‘When Camilla was tidying up while you were in hospital, she found something.’

  Ginnie whirled around and stared at him. ‘What? What did she find?’

  The distance that had always lain between him and his mother had widened over the years. As their eyes met, Ginnie almost as tall as Sadler, he was surprised to feel the prickle of fear. He shook it away.

  ‘There was a jumper with blood on it. Camilla didn’t know whether to mention it to you.’

  ‘Oh that. I had a nosebleed before I called the ambulance. It was heavy so I took off my top and used it to mop it up. She should have asked me.’

  ‘Everything else is all right?’

  But his mother had turned back towards the window and was once more watching Mina.

  ‘Everything’s fine,’ she murmured, continuing her vigil.

  47

  When Mina had finished in the garden, she lugged her tools back to the van and took a long swig from the water bottle she kept on the passenger seat. Aware of her full bladder, she looked briefly to the house. Should she knock and ask to use the toilet? Perhaps Sadler’s mother was more ill than he’d mentioned, for the elderly woman had made no move to come and see the results of Mina’s hard work. She hesitated for a moment, and then slid into the van and started the engine.

  At St Bertram’s she nipped into the toilets and then hung around in the foyer waiting for Catherine to finish her shift. At half three, the girl came out of the lift wearing not her school uniform but an old-fashioned dress in a pale lemon fabric spattered with mauve polka dots. Dressed so unsuitably for the season, she’d draped her grey school cardigan around her shoulders to keep herself warm and was clutching the collar to her chin. She spotted Mina straight away, hesitated for a moment, and then made her way to the desk and pulled her badge over her head.

  ‘I’m sorry about Mrs Kemp.’ She refused to look at Mina, instead scratching her name on a clipboard, her signature fat and childlike. ‘I got your message from Gerry. It was nice of you to let us know.’

  ‘I’m sorry I missed you at the farm.’

  The girl made a face, still not looking at Mina. ‘I have to go.’

  ‘I just want to talk about what she said when you last spoke to Mum.’

  The girl scrunched up her eyes. ‘She wasn’t making much sense. I was frightened.’

  ‘Frightened? It was you who came up to me and told me about the Cutting.’

  ‘Oh that.’ The girl sounded bored but the words had a fake weariness to them.

  ‘I’ve been having a think. It might be to do with the railway, down near the Topley Trail. Did she mention anything else about trains?’

  ‘She didn’t say anything about a railway. She talked to me about the drowned village. You know, over at Derwent.’ The girl didn’t want to speak to her, desperate to get away, her eyes darting from side to side.

  ‘The drowned village? What did she say?’

  ‘Not much. She just wanted to talk about the village that was drowned. I don’t know why.’

  ‘And you’re sure you didn’t see her on the day she died?’

  The girl shook her head.

  ‘Did you try?’

  ‘No! Why are you asking me about this?’

  ‘Who’s Valerie Hallows?’

  Catherine looked furious. ‘My grandmother. She died before I was born. A long time ago. Why are you asking me this?’

  ‘Gerry said you were very interested in your family history.’

  Catherine recoiled. ‘That’s nothing to do with you. I’m doing some research, that’s all. We’re an old family. Up there is my land and my heritage. I’m interested in what happened to my family. There are those who want to help and those who don’t.’

  ‘Who’s helping you?’

  ‘I’m not talking to you.’ Catherine raised her voice and the woman in charge of the reception desk came over towards them.

  ‘Is everything all right, Cathy?’

  ‘I’m just talking to Catherine about her visiting my mother before she died.’

  The woman looked from Catherine to Mina. ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘She’s asking me about my grandmother. That’s not got anything to do with her.’

  ‘Why don’t you go home, Cathy, unless this lady has anything else to ask you?’

  Catherine scuttled off, leaving behind the scent of cheap perfume. Mina turned to the woman. ‘Isn’t she a bit young to be volunteering for this? Surely she must see patients who are very ill?’

  ‘Cathy likes doing the work and the patients like her. We get very good feedback from them. We’ve others from her year group that don’t go down so well.’ The woman hesitated. ‘Catherine is a little …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Immature, I think. She lives up on a farm in Hallows Hill. Just her and her mother. The father’s long gone.’

  ‘Gone away?’

  ‘No, sorry, I meant he died. I didn’t put it very well, did I? The Hallows have been up there farming for generations. The farm keeps getting passed down to sons who don’t want it. It’ll be Catherine’s next but she doesn’t look the farming type to me.’

  ‘She’s very thin.’

  ‘Oh, I think she’s robust enough physically, but she has, well, these obsessions of hers. I get the impression the mother’s not around much. According to Catherine, her mother has a job that takes her out and about.’

  ‘Obsessions about what?’

  ‘Oh nothing. She just gets a bee in her bonnet about things. Never mind that. Look at me standing here gossiping and there’s someone over there looking lost. I’d better leave you to it.’

  The woman bustled off and Mina, at a loss, turned to go.

  ‘She’s obsessed with the railway.’

  Mina looked around to see the source of the voice and spotted a large girl in a school uniform. Unlike Catherine, she hadn’t changed but had stuffed her blazer into a thin rucksack.

  ‘You mean Catherine?’ Mina walked over to the girl and looked at her name tag. Noelle, no surname. ‘You go to the same school?’

  ‘Bampton Grammar, yes. We have to do loads outside school, though. It’s all part of contributing to society. Only, Catherine does what she wants.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘We’re supposed to keep our school uniforms on during the daytime but Catherine couldn’t wait to get changed today. It’s just one example. And she’s always down at the old railway exploring. That’s weird too. There’s nothing to see.’

  ‘How do you know she’s always there?’

  Noelle looked down at her feet. ‘I live at the bottom end of Bampton. She passes our house, a lot. We’re the last row before you get on the Topley Trail at that entrance. She gets the bus to Cold Eaton, not from outside school but from the one near us by the trail. I watch her sometimes and she’s always coming from the direction of the old railway.’

  ‘How long has this been happening?’

  Noelle looked confused. ‘I don’t know. I gradually noticed that Cathy kept walking past the house. I’m sorry about your mum. Catherine told me. She liked her.’

  ‘That’s okay.’ Mina turned to go.

  ‘She was so upset she had to go home. I think she liked visiting your mum.’

  Mina stopped. ‘What do you mean go home? When was this?’

  ‘On Wednesday. She came back down to sign out. We were supposed to finish at half three, the same time as school, but Cathy came down half an hour earlier and said she was upset because one of her patients had died.’

  ‘How did you know it was my mum?’

  Noelle thought for a moment. ‘She must have said. She said the name or something. I knew it was Mrs Kemp, I remember her from the library too when I was small.’

  ‘Cathy knew my mum had died
on Wednesday?’

  ‘That’s right. It’s not a problem, is it?’

  Then why didn’t she say when I just talked to her? thought Mina. Why go through the charade of thanking me for coming to see her?

  ‘How did she look? I mean, was she okay when she heard about my mum?’

  ‘I told you, she was upset. She couldn’t wait to go home.’

  *

  In her grief, nothing made any sense. Mina and her mother had been close. Their different personalities hadn’t prevented the bond between them growing and blossoming as Mina became an adult. Hilary, however, clearly had valued her privacy and what Mina had thought to be an aspect of her mother’s personality was now potentially something else. Mina in the middle of her heartache was trying to uncover something that had been deliberately left in the past.

  Hilary’s words were coming back to haunt her and she felt adrift in her grief. She knew about plants and the colour of soil. And how the seasons melded into one another and each was as eagerly awaited as the next. She was innocent in the ways of deceit and mistrust and her head pounded at the strands that weren’t unravelling. The police were investigating the death of her mother, Emily Fenn had lied about knowing the Valerie in the photos, and now the police were taking an interest in that long disbanded group of friends.

  Mina had a slight advantage over the police but it felt like a millstone. They were unaware of Hilary’s admission, if it was that, of killing Valerie, and of Catherine’s reference to the Cutting. That embankment must be important because her mother had always avoided the railway and had refused to venture near the walking trail. The man at the steam railway had warned Mina about the Cutting. Strange tales including one of a naked man. Remembering the note left on her windscreen, Mina thought of the little fingers clasping at the pen in the foyer. Not the same handwriting surely, and yet the scrape of pen on paper had brought to mind the note.

  Instead of going to the car park further along the trail, Mina drove to Cutting Lane and pulled up at the bridge. She tucked her van into a verge and folded in the wing mirrors. It was deathly eerie. Not foggy but the air heavy with moisture, which gave the autumn vegetation a swampy sheen. She changed into her gardening boots, which were heavy soled with thick treads that could tackle the most boggy of terrain. She set off up the steep slope; a rail had been put against the steps and she hung onto it to steady herself on the mossy path. As she reached the top, she was nearly spun off her feet by a man rushing past her carting a small child.