The Locked Room (Ruth Galloway #14)(85)

Nelson says nothing but Tanya pipes up, ‘You said the same thing, boss. When you came round after being knocked out.’

‘You were knocked out?’ says Jo. ‘I didn’t hear about this.’

‘I tripped over something,’ says Nelson. ‘Bloody silly thing to do. I missed all the fun while Tanya rushed around solving the crime and arresting people.’

‘It wasn’t quite like that,’ says Tanya but Judy can tell that her colleague concurs completely with this description of events and, for once, she doesn’t feel irritated or envious. More important things were going on last night.

And, it seems, she has underestimated Tanya. ‘It was Judy who cracked the case,’ she says. ‘She sent me the picture of Hugh Baxter in Avril’s garden.’

‘How did you get that, Judy?’ asks Nelson, sitting on one of the desks, which is the cue for everyone else to sit down. Jo looks as if she is missing her yoga ball.

‘Tina’s daughter sent it to me,’ says Judy. ‘Tina was Avril’s cleaner and she mentioned taking the picture of the heron on the day that she found Avril’s body. Tina tried to contact me, saying that someone had been at Avril’s house that day. But, before I could speak to Tina, she was taken ill with Covid and died later. Her daughter said that Tina had sent me a message. “Tell Judy it was you.” Last night I realised she was saying, “It was Hugh.” I wondered how she’d guessed and thought that the evidence must be in the picture.’

‘Great work, Judy,’ says Nelson. ‘We’ve been finding out a bit more about friend Hugh, haven’t we?’

‘Yes,’ says Tanya. ‘It turns out he specialised in befriending women and then belittling them, putting thoughts of suicide into their heads. Saffron Wilson said that he was creepy, always going on about women’s weight.’

Judy remembers the picture of Hugh and Avril on Cromer pier. ‘She said that dress made her look fat.’ She remembers too the dead wife who was ‘as slim as anything’. She should have seen the warning signs, but she’d been taken in by the elderly man with his interest in local history and touching friendship with the dead woman. She says, ‘I think Hugh locked Avril’s door to make sure she didn’t escape. If his fingerprints are on the handle, we’ll have evidence.’

‘That’s true,’ says Nelson. ‘The rest is almost impossible to prove, sadly. If he hadn’t kidnapped Zoe Hilton, we’d have nothing on him.’

‘Is he in custody?’ asks Judy.

‘Yes,’ says Tanya. ‘We’re holding him for twenty-four hours. We’ve done an interview under caution but haven’t charged him yet.’

‘We need to get this right,’ says Nelson. ‘I don’t want Baxter claiming that he was just confused, playing the Alzheimer’s card. He locked Zoe in that underground room at Steward’s House and kept her there for two days. He brought her painkillers and tried to persuade her to take an overdose. She said she almost gave in.’

‘That’s horrible,’ says Judy.

‘Janet Meadows says that she heard noises but she put it down to ghosts,’ says Nelson. ‘Like you do.’

‘It is a very haunted place,’ says Judy. ‘Cathbad says so.’

‘I can’t wait until Cathbad’s better so I can tell him what I think of his lunatic ideas,’ says Nelson.

‘Weren’t you in his dream?’ says Judy slyly. ‘You could have told him then.’ She has the pleasure of seeing the boss colour up behind his mask.

‘Joe McMahon heard voices too,’ says Tony. ‘He said he thought it was unquiet spirits.’

‘Who’s talking about spirits?’ says a voice. ‘Mine’s a double brandy.’

And there in the doorway, wearing a Chelsea scarf over his nose and mouth instead of a mask, is Clough.



Ruth hardly notices Nelson leave. She sleeps until nine and is woken up by Kate and Flint, both demanding breakfast. It’s another lovely day so she and Kate take their toast into the back garden. This is one of the only good things about lockdown, thinks Ruth – no six-thirty starts, waking in the darkness with the radio alarm flashing, no drive through the rush hour to deposit Kate at school or childminder. The sun is warm on her face and she has just had a text from Judy saying that Cathbad is sitting up in bed and talking. Flint is testing his claws on the apple tree and Kate practising crow pose. The real thing, Corbyn, is sitting on a fence post as if carved in wood.

‘Tell Cathbad we’re thinking of him,’ Ruth tells the bird.

The crow watches her for a moment. His bright, dark eyes reminding her of something. Of someone. Then he caws once, spreads his wings and rises into the air.

‘Hi!’ Zoe appears at the fence. She’s in her smart pyjamas and her hair is skewered in an artless bun on the top of her head. She’s been imprisoned underground with only bread and water for three days and she still looks better than Ruth. Only the dark shadows under her eyes betray her.

‘You’re back!’ Kate rolls onto her feet and skips over. ‘We looked after Derek. Where did you go?’

‘It’s a long story,’ says Zoe.

‘I like stories,’ says Kate. ‘I’m writing one about a time-travelling cat.’