Whisper the Dead Read online

  A short silence, then: ‘And that’s it? You’d rather not tell me what you’re held up with, or if you’re all right, or ask me to give a message to Tony – or Lily?’

  Hugh was an enigma, a man of means who chose to manage a country pub and who kept his private life, private. For him to ask her questions meant that someone was agitated about her being so late back and had said as much. That would either be Tony Harrison, who was her lover and her best friend, or, just as likely, Lily Duggins – Alex’s mother.

  ‘Is my mother fussing?’ Alex asked, deliberately avoiding the other possibility since Tony hated any discussion of their combined lives with others. ‘Go ahead and tell her I got tied up but I’m fine and having a good time. I hope not to be too long.’

  ‘If you’re having such a good time, why are you hoping it ends quickly?’ Typical Hugh verbal callisthenics. ‘Sounds noisy where you are.’

  ‘Another point to you, m’dear. Hold down the fort, please.’ She hung up and considered calling Tony, but another siren made her pause.

  The headlights of a vehicle bounced over the higher points in the track to enter the construction compound. A marked police car followed. On the unmarked car a bubble on the roof near the passenger door rotated light.

  The sedan paused, its siren whining to a stop and the flashing light disappearing, then the driver cut the engine and both front doors opened.

  Two men strode downhill toward the fire trucks and aid car.

  Alex stared hard but didn’t think there was anyone she recognized. That, at least, was something. She wasn’t in the mood for any falsely cheerful reunions – not that she could even be certain of any cheer, false or otherwise. Her too frequent encounters with the Gloucestershire Police had set up an ‘interesting’ dynamic between her and several detectives.

  ‘Sir!’

  A fireman’s shout captured her entire attention. One of the men who had been using a hatchet on the smoldering trailer framework jogged back toward one of the trucks. They’d found something. Alex scrunched the neck of her jumper between her fingers. Someone? Or what was left of them? You didn’t need a working knowledge of what happened to a human inside a conflagration like she’d just seen to know what it would do to a body – or bodies.

  Intent on the dark and moving silhouettes in the huddle of police and firemen, Alex didn’t notice one figure separated from the rest until a torch beam landed at her feet and flashed away. The man with the light jogged toward her, coat flapping, his hat tipped forward over his forehead.

  When he drew near he looked up and called, ‘Alex? For God’s sake, you do get around. What are you doing here?’

  She groaned and took a step backward.

  Detective Sergeant Bill Lamb in the flesh. It never took him long to make her feel superfluous, a nuisance and a few rocks short of an otherwise fine dry-stone wall.

  ‘Hello, detective sergeant,’ she said formally but in what she hoped was a cheerily impersonal tone. ‘You’re all over the place yourself. Welcome.’ Now she sounded as if he was visiting her patch, darn it.

  ‘Where’s your coat?’ he asked, coming even closer.

  This was not a good moment. ‘It got ruined because of the fire.’

  Even in the darkness she could read the disbelieving expression on his face. ‘In the fire? This fire?’ He hooked a thumb over his shoulder.

  ‘Not exactly.’ At least he couldn’t see her red face. ‘Or, well anyway, I suppose … I was wearing my anorak when there … a man ran from that trailer and his trousers were singed and smoking so I threw the coat over his legs and helped roll out any fire. He was on the ground then, of course.’

  The detective’s notebook appeared from an inside pocket and he started scribbling with the aid of his torch. ‘So, he’s a friend of yours?’

  ‘No!’ Alex sucked cold air in between her teeth. ‘That’s not what I said and it’s not the case. I just happened to be here looking at the development. Everyone in the area is talking about it, so I wanted to take a look for myself.’

  ‘“Just … happened”,’ he muttered as he wrote. He looked up sharply with bright eyes she knew too well were disturbingly light blue and unblinking when you got a good look at him. ‘You drove all the way over from Folly just to “take a look” at this – in the dark on a Sunday evening?’

  He was so good at ruffling her. Why could she never control her reactions to him? One of her trusted friends thought he was a wonderful man so it had to be something to do with her own muddled impression.

  ‘Bill,’ she began firmly. They were on first name terms and any formality was pointless. ‘I was on my way back from Stanton late in the afternoon. I saw the sign for the development and drove here. It was later than I thought and getting darker than I expected, but here I am. And it was probably a good thing because that man needed help.’

  More writing in silence but for the sound of Alex’s own breathing.

  ‘Bill! Over here!’

  That was one more voice that was well known to her, Detective Chief Inspector Dan O’Reilly. And now another awkward encounter was in the works.

  ‘Come with me, please,’ Bill said and called, ‘coming, guv.’ He shrugged out of his raincoat and settled it over Alex’s shoulders, already moving back toward his boss.

  Alex said, ‘Thank you,’ and shuffled along beside him, hitching the coat above her boots.

  ‘Can we speed this up, Alex?’

  Darn it! You couldn’t snap at a man who just lent you his coat on a cold night. You probably shouldn’t think nasty things about him, either. All this was going to take some explaining when she got back to Folly – especially to Tony. Tony took her tendency toward what he called, ‘impulse excess’ with indulgent, even fond acceptance – most of the time. This one would be convoluted to explain.

  ‘Toward the back of the trailer, sir,’ the fireman was saying. ‘I’d say there was one of those separate compartments with a couch you can make into a bed across there. That’s about gone.’

  ‘No sign of another body?’ Dan asked, glancing at Alex and nodding. She raised the fingers of one hand and stayed back while Bill joined his boss.

  ‘Just the one so far, sir,’ the fireman responded to Dan’s question. ‘The fire was pretty intense.’

  Alex didn’t want to look at the burned-out trailer but couldn’t help it. The fire smoldered in places, and hissed, but appeared mostly under control. Several firemen stood to one side at the back of the crumbling wreckage, all staring at what looked like the same area. She was too far away to make out details but she couldn’t miss a twisted thing among the debris. That didn’t have to be a body but it could be.

  ‘The cavalry is on its way,’ Dan told Bill. He said, ‘Hello, Alex,’ over his shoulder.

  ‘Hi, Dan.’ If there was anything else to say, she couldn’t think of it.

  Bareheaded as he usually was, Dan stood in signature pose: coat pushed back and hands sunk in his trouser pockets. ‘Let’s do it,’ he said. ‘Not you, Alex. Stay where you are, please.’

  Stomping her feet to try kick-starting her frozen circulation, she did as she was told but wished she could transport herself far away.

  The back doors of the emergency vehicle were still open. The darkness was complete now and light shone from inside. How was Bob Hill, she wondered and walked to stand at a respectful distance, but close enough to call out, ‘Excuse me. I was with Mr Hill. How is he, please?’

  A medic poked her head out, but pulled it back again, talking to someone. ‘Come over if you like,’ the woman said, looking outside again. ‘Mr Hill’s doing well. We’re making sure he’s comfortable.’ She jumped down and met Alex. In a low tone she said, ‘He’s trying to talk himself out of going to the hospital but that’s not going to happen. He thinks he can just drive himself home.’

  Alex walked beside her. ‘Typical male reaction, I should think,’ she said, grinning sideways at the medic.

  The woman made an athletic upward leap into the v
ehicle. ‘Your friend who was with you is here, Mr Hill.’

  Already clambering in, Alex started to say she didn’t know the man but had to concentrate on getting herself and Bill’s raincoat up slippery metal steps.

  Bob Hill was laughing.

  ‘He’s had something to settle him,’ the second medic said with a meaningful look at the patient, ‘but he’s a feisty one.’

  ‘I didn’t know him before this evening,’ Alex said, grinning at Hill who didn’t seem to be feeling any pain at all. ‘We met out there after the fire had broken out. How are you, er, Mr Hill?’

  ‘Call me Bob and tell these nice people I’m perfectly capable of driving myself home now. Thanks, by the way. You saved the day for me. Don’t even know if I’ve got a mobile. If I do, I don’t know where it is.’

  ‘Glad I was here,’ Alex said. Hill had a slender good-looking face and straight dark hair, well-cut and flecked with grey. ‘They’re going to get you checked out at the hospital. That’s the best way.’

  ‘I’ve got my own car,’ he said, grinning broadly. They had cleaned his face – a vast improvement. He tried to sit up but was promptly eased back onto pillows.

  ‘Someone else will drive it home for you,’ Alex said. ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘Temple Guiting. Knighton House.’

  ‘What’s the number there, sir?’ the male medic asked. His nametag showed he was Pain, which Alex thought an unfortunate name.

  ‘No point calling?’ the patient said, less jolly now. ‘No one there. All away.’

  Pain looked at Alex. ‘Not far, anyway,’ he said. ‘You can drive his car, can’t you? Follow us to the hospital. I don’t think they’ll keep him in. The police will want to speak to him before we leave if he’s up to it. How are you doing, Bob?’

  ‘Tickety-boo,’ Hill said. ‘Absolutely, bloody marvelous.’

  ‘That’s good to hear.’ Bill Lamb had arrived quietly and leaned in to see Bob Hill. ‘Are your wheels in a safe place, sir?’

  ‘Safe as houses,’ Bob said with what sounded like a giggle. He sobered again. ‘I’ll get it later. Or my new friend will drive it to the hospital for me. Good girl, she is. Couldn’t have managed without her.’ His eyelids drooped.

  Bill didn’t look at her but said, ‘The DCI told you to stay where you were,’ very quietly. ‘Questioning witnesses isn’t your job, remember?’

  She ignored him. ‘Could I write something for him?’ she asked Murdock, the female medic, who gave Alex a notebook and pen.

  ‘This is my name, address and phone number,’ she said, writing. ‘For you, and for Mr Hill if he needs them.’ She tore out the sheet and handed it over before jumping out onto the crackling, frozen ground.

  ‘And I wasn’t questioning him,’ she said. ‘Just asking how he was.’

  ‘That was nice of you,’ Bill said. ‘You obviously saw a good deal – if not everything.’

  ‘Well—’

  Bill cut Alex off. ‘I’ll put you in a car to wait for DCI O’Reilly. He’ll deal with you now.’

  THREE

  Tony Harrison scarcely made it into the saloon bar at the Black Dog Pub and Inn, when his dog Katie shot away from him and zipped between tables like a sandy-haired, slightly well-padded slalom racer. Tony watched her make straight for the Burke sisters’ table in front of the fire where flames bent and sparked over the blackened breast of the wide chimney, and reflected on polished horse brasses hanging from the thick, age-darkened mantel. Joining Bogie, Alex’s terrier mix (otherwise known as Standard British Breed), on the blue tartan blanket kept there for them, she looked around as if waiting to receive welcomes from many friends.

  Harriet and Mary Burke, well wrapped up in winter woolies with wide scarves around their necks, gave both dogs attention and suffered serious dog-lick attacks in return.

  Hugh Rhys stood behind the bar looking directly at Tony with an expression that suggested he’d not only expected him, but needed some sort of help – immediately.

  Making his way to the counter, Tony greeted the regulars that called out to him. But it was Hugh who held his attention.

  ‘Ambler?’ Hugh said, picking up a pint glass.

  ‘Make it Macallan,’ Tony said. ‘Double. What’s up?’

  ‘I think you already know.’

  Tony gave a brief nod. ‘Alex said she called you. Did you make more sense out of what she said than I did?’

  ‘I got the feeling she didn’t want to make sense,’ Hugh said. He gripped the edge of the counter, locked his arms and straightened his spine. ‘Said she was tied up and going to be late. And, no, she couldn’t give more details. Since Lily got in she’s been up to her eyes checking late arrivals to the inn – for which I’m grateful. They’ve got a pretty good crowd over there in the restaurant, too. Busy.’ He indicated the passageway from the bar to the restaurant on the ground floor beneath the seven guest rooms. ‘She’s not a happy woman and giving her Alex’s message didn’t improve a thing. Those two are having a silent battle – or is that just my imagination?’

  ‘No. And I’m not being told what’s going on either. I did think Alex would be back by now though. How long ago did she phone you?’

  Hugh frowned and put the whiskey in front of Tony. ‘Hours,’ he said. ‘Two, no, three.’

  ‘She called me an hour and a half ago. Are you OK, Hugh? You don’t look it.’

  ‘Damned if I know. Intuition isn’t high on my list of reliable instincts, but this bar has been giving off waves of negative vibes tonight and I can’t call what I’ve been feeling anything but intuition.’

  Nothing helpful occurred to Tony.

  ‘Can you feel anything?’ Hugh asked. ‘Or do you think I’m a mad man?’

  Hunching his shoulders, Tony slowly shook his head, no. ‘Pretty grim in here.’

  ‘Lily’s not helping,’ Hugh said. ‘She’s been in such a prickly mood recently and that’s being kind, but she can’t be more than just a part of the reason it feels like doom approaches. She couldn’t pull this all on her own.’

  Turning his back to the counter, Tony studied the room. The place was full, as it usually was on a Sunday evening, but there was something different. ‘There isn’t enough noise,’ he announced abruptly, looking over his shoulder at the manager. ‘Most of them have their eyes downcast. And all the mouths are moving but it’s muted in here.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Hugh said through his teeth. ‘And this isn’t a bloody funeral home, dammit. Some would blast out music and try a joke on every customer, but it’s not my style. I’m managing the Dog to get away from pretending to be what keeps other people happy. I’m easy-going enough but I’m not responsible for this lot’s moods.’

  Tony thought about the other man’s comments and faced him as nonchalantly as he could manage. He had never heard him make any comments about why a man of means like him was here in Folly-on-Weir, doing what he was doing. He owned just about the largest house in the village proper, Green Friday, but chose to live in a couple of upstairs rooms here at the pub. Sometimes his house was rented, but only if someone interested got a tip about it and tracked Hugh down.

  Hugh looked uncomfortable and Tony decided to shelve any notion of practicing his non-existent psychiatric skills. There were reasons he specialized in veterinary rather than human medicine. Discomfort with poking into patients’ minds as well as their bodily ills was only one of them. Animals had personalities, too, strong ones in many cases, but he could trust his rapport with them to be his guide. He didn’t have to wait and hope they would talk – or not talk too much.

  He picked up the brass bell on the counter and rang it energetically. ‘Everyone bought their raffle tickets for the church hamper, have they?’ he cried. ‘I know there’s going to be a whopper of a turkey with vegetables and pies from the Derwinters, beer and wine from the Dog, afternoon tea at Leaves of Comfort, served by our very own Harriet and Mary Burke, and a free exam and teeth cleaning from the great local vet. Dogs, cats, guinea pigs, gerbi
ls, hamsters and other animals only – prior evaluation of any specimen bigger than me, or that I can’t identify. No pets with opposing thumbs. Got your chances?’

  A ‘yes’ chorus went up amid laughter. Some gave a negative answer and raised a hand to show they wanted to buy. Liz Hadley who was working tonight as she did most nights, took a roll of tickets from under the counter. She grinned and chatted while she made the rounds.

  The noise level rose.

  ‘Good going,’ Hugh said. ‘You’ve got hidden talents, man. Next time it turns chilly in here I’ll know who to call.’

  ‘Yes.’ Tony got more edgy as time passed. ‘Have you tried to call Alex back?’

  ‘Twice. How about you?’

  ‘Twice for me, too. It goes straight to messages. She only went over to Stanton – supposedly.’

  Hugh tapped the back of Tony’s hand. ‘We’d be better off not to speculate, you know. She’ll be back safe soon enough.’

  ‘It’s already long past soon enough.’

  ‘And here comes Lily again.’ Hugh sighed. ‘I knew the peace couldn’t last much longer.’

  ‘Peace?’ Tony gave a short laugh and took a swig of his Macallan. ‘Everything in here is strung tight enough to snap. I’m expecting the windows to blow out. Alex going missing is the last straw.’

  ‘She’s uptight, too,’ Hugh said, keeping his voice down. He spoke up as Lily approached. ‘Everyone checked in, Lily? Anyone else still expected?’

  Tall, much taller than her daughter, Lily arrived at the counter with pinched lips and her almond-shaped green eyes wiped of all expression. She didn’t answer Hugh’s question.

  ‘Hello, Lily,’ Tony said.

  ‘Have you heard from Alex? What did she tell you?’

  ‘Yes, and not much,’ Tony replied. ‘She got delayed on her way back from the book sale in Stanton.’

  Lily wore her dark hair longer than Alex. Strands of gray streaked the older woman’s curls. Height and hairstyle aside, that they were uncannily alike wasn’t a stretch.

  ‘Will you let me buy you a drink?’ Tony moved closer to her. ‘You’re upset about something. Is it just Alex?’