The Fourth Friend (DI Jackman & DS Evans #3)(55)

Laura let out a sigh. ‘God, Sam, I’ve tried all the tricks, even the exercises we use in training. But this time . . . nothing works.’ She paused. ‘You are right, Sam, but because I work for the police force I can’t just hand his case over to you. You don’t have clearance.’

‘Then allow me to help you. Don’t tackle this alone.’

‘Would you? It would be such a relief! And let’s pray that our boys and girls in blue solve the mystery of Suzanne in double-quick time, before we all finish up in therapy!’

Sam hung up, feeling happier. At least if he were there to guide her, she wouldn’t have to worry about errors of judgement. And if things didn’t pan out for Carter McLean, Laura might really need him.

*

Jackman was just deciding to call it a day when his phone rang.

‘As promised, the full story.’ Rory Wilkinson sounded excited. ‘It’s a shame I’m based in Greenborough, I’d love you to call into my underground kingdom. I have this really dinky little 3D graphic showing the last moments of Suzanne Holland.’

‘I can get there tomorrow. But for now, can you tell me what happened?’

‘Of course, dear heart! Now would you like the full cast production, or the abridged version? I recommend the full Monty because then I can show off my huge repertoire of regional accents.’

‘I’m sure your repertoire is most impressive, Rory, but a simple synopsis would suffice.’

‘Are you related to DI Galena, by any chance?’

‘Not to my knowledge. Er, the story . . . ?’

‘Right. Suzanne died because she hit her head against the mantelpiece. She then fell to the floor sustaining a further head injury on the cast-iron surround of the fireplace.’

‘She fell?’ Jackman was sure Rory had suggested a more violent end.

‘Yes, she fell.’ Rory paused. ‘But only because she was pushed, with considerable force.’

‘You can be quite irritating sometimes, Rory, did anyone ever tell you that?’

‘I’m told — frequently.’ He chuckled. ‘I really do think I can explain much more clearly when you see the whole thing in motion.’

‘Early tomorrow, if that’s okay?’

‘Since I practically live here, that will be fine. Oh, and I am going to do another forensic sweep of your crime scene. I have equipment available to me now that wasn’t around eighteen months ago. Blood spatter analysis is my passion, and I have a theory about the hearth rug that I would like to check out. Would you arrange that for me?’

‘Just say when. I have access to the keys.’

‘We’ll sort that out when you do me the honour of visiting tomorrow. So for now I’ll just say, Ciao, and hasta ma?ana.’

Jackman replaced the phone and saw Marie standing in the doorway.

‘Any joy?’

‘Maybe, maybe not.’ She sat down. ‘Carter has got a name for one of Danny’s gofers, but the little scrote has gone to ground.’

‘Maybe uniform can find him.’

‘I’d leave it to Carter, sir. He’s got a knack with the underbelly of Saltern-le-Fen. If anyone can root him out, Carter can.’

‘Anything else?’

‘There’s an undercurrent out there. We both noticed it.’ Marie massaged her temples, as if her head ached. ‘It’s hard to explain, but there seems to be a lot of bad feeling towards the police — more than normal — and Ruth Crooke in particular. First thing tomorrow I’ll pull up a list of local villains that might have a grudge against her, then Carter and I are going knocking on a few doors.’

‘Where is Carter now?’

‘He’s gone to see her.’

‘Voluntarily?’

Marie grinned. ‘Yes, would you believe? I could be wrong, but I get the feeling that this business with Leah is mending a very old rift.’

‘Not before time.’

Marie stretched. ‘Any news on the Suzanne front?’

Jackman told her about the half-brother, and what Rory had found.

‘Looks like we are moving forward at last.’

‘Let’s not count our chickens, but something’s beginning to emerge from the mist.’

‘Good.’ Marie yawned.

‘Get off home, Evans! And get some rest.’

‘I will. I just want a quick word with Carter before I go.’

‘Don’t let him get you involved in one of his long heart to hearts, please. I need you on the ball, not worried sick over imaginary dead people.’

‘Er, sir. They are actual dead people. Not imaginary.’

‘So remember that, okay?’

‘Yes, sir. Understood, sir.’

*

Carter was on his way to Stone Quay, and trying to concentrate on the road. His mind was on Ruth Crooke, and the sudden change in their relationship.

At close of day, he had sat and actually talked to her for almost half an hour. And not one acrimonious remark had passed between them. Nothing had been said, but he knew that they had made their peace at last. He left her office feeling as if the wind had blown a heavy storm cloud from the sky.

He came to a halt and found the key to the storeroom. He had a couple of particular jobs to attend to this evening, and then he would be almost done.