‘It was easy enough to find out which coach you took,’ Ramsay said. ‘That was routine police work. Matthew Carpenter had told me that he came from there. The local police sent someone round to interview his mother. She said you’d been to see her and admitted that she’d phoned Miss Hunt. She didn’t know Miss Hunt was involved with the murders, of course. She just thought you were going to make trouble for her, as Medburn had done. Then it was obvious to go to the bungalow. When we saw your suitcase in her car, we knew you must be inside.’
‘She threatened to kill me,’ Jack said. ‘She was going to make it look like suicide.’ It sounded very impressive. He thought everyone would make a fuss of him for months.
Hannah Wilcox cleared her throat to speak and they all looked at her. There was a brief silence except for the muffled sound of next door’s television. ‘Did she kill Paul?’ she asked. ‘I need to know.’
‘Yes,’ Ramsay said. ‘Because he’d seen her at the school house.’
‘But I thought she had an alibi. She was with Matthew Carpenter.’
‘That was clever,’ Ramsay said. ‘Matthew realized he was under suspicion and he was frightened. Miss Hunt told him she was prepared to protect him and persuaded him to lie to me. “Tell them I got to your house an hour earlier than I actually did,” she said. “I know you’re not a murderer. I’ll back up anything that you say.” And in persuading him, of course, she provided an alibi for herself.’
Hannah lit a cigarette and passed the packet to Jack. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘At least now I know what happened.’
‘Poor Matthew,’ Patty said. ‘He’ll be shattered. Did he have no idea that she was his grandmother?’
‘No, why should he? He thought she was a kind teacher, close to retirement, who’d taken him under her wing.’
‘I was convinced that Angela Brayshaw was the murderer,’ Patty said. She was ashamed she had been so wrong. ‘It seems ridiculous now but her mother behaved so peculiarly when I went to Burnside.’
‘We’ve found out what all that was about,’ Ramsay said. Jack felt he was being patronizing to Patty. He had been no closer to finding the truth than her after all. ‘Mrs Mount was only too pleased to talk when she realized she was suspected of murder. Apparently she used to make all the residents of Burnside take Heminevrin at night, even those for whom it hadn’t been prescribed. I suppose it made life easier for her, but it’s against the law. Kitty Medburn found out what was going on there and she was shocked. She told Mrs Mount the home would have to change its way of operating or she’d tell the police. When you went for the interview and began asking questions about the drug, Mrs Mount thought Kitty had told Jack what she’d been up to. No wonder she overreacted.’
‘I misjudged Angela,’ Patty said. ‘How dreadful to think someone capable of murder!’ She would have to go to see Angela, she thought, and explain. ‘But I never imagined it was Miss Hunt.’
‘She had been twisted and bitter inside for forty years,’ Jack said, ‘without giving any sign of it at all. She told me Matthew was the only person she’d had a chance to love since her parents sent her away. Matthew was like her bairn and her man all together. She couldn’t keep that sort of pretence!’
‘What was her daughter like?’
‘Dark and pretty like Miss Hunt was twenty years ago. She’s unhappy too. She seemed to me to brood too much on the past.’
And isn’t that just what I’ve been doing, he thought, pretending that I was a young man again, and could change decisions made years ago?
‘How did you know that Matthew was Miss Hunt’s grandson?’ Ramsay asked. ‘Did she say something at school?’
Jack shook his head. ‘ I knew Carpenter’s home address,’ he said, ‘because occasionally he used to bring letters to school for me to post for him. Then on the night of the bonfire, just before I was hit on the head, I found a scrap of paper on Medburn’s desk. It had Irene Hunt’s name on it, but an address in the Midlands. Medburn must have written it when Anne Carpenter came to Heppleburn to find her mother. The address seemed familiar but I didn’t realize until later where I’d seen it before.’
‘You should have told me,’ Ramsay said.
‘Aye. Perhaps I should.’
The visitors left together – Ramsay offered to drive Hannah Wilcox home and as he helped her into the car Patty felt an ache of jealousy. She remembered the fast drive to Whitley Bay with him. That would be out of the question now. She would have to live by the old rules again. She and Jack were standing on the doorstep to see the guests off. Ramsay left Hannah in the car and returned to speak to them.
‘Thank you for your help,’ he said. ‘I should be telling you off for interfering, but I would never have found her without your help.’
‘Will we see you again?’ Patty asked. She spoke quietly. She did not want Jim to hear.
‘Of course. You’ll be needed as witnesses at the trial. I’ll be in touch.’ And he waved his hand and drove away.
It was not late. She could hear the signature tune for News at Ten from her neighbours’ television. Somewhere in the street a woman was taking a dog for its evening walk. The bairns were in bed and Jim would be wanting tea and a sandwich for his supper.
‘It’s as if nothing ever happened,’ she said. ‘Everything’s just the same.’
Jack thought of Kitty, the sense of vigour and clarity she had given him, the pleasure of his trip south, the excitement of achievement. He would not be content now to be a councillor and school caretaker whose only challenge was a weekly trip to the library, tedious council meetings and a pint at the club.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Nothing will be the same again.’
After Ramsay had dropped Hannah at the mill he sat for a moment in the car. The fog had lifted and he could see the damp trees over the road. There was an immense relief that the case was over without further violence. He had been lucky. It had been a mistake to take Kitty Medburn into custody and the repercussions from that would rumble on, he supposed. But it was a mistake any of his colleagues might have made and the decision had been supported by his superiors. It would soon be forgotten by everyone but him. He would always remember it. Now, when he should be elated with success he felt empty and a little sad. He had come to think of the people who had spent the evening in Patty’s home as his friends. He would miss them.
Ann Cleeves
Ann Cleeves is the author behind ITV’s VERA and BBC One’s SHETLAND. She has written over twenty-five novels, and is the creator of detectives Vera Stanhope and Jimmy Perez – characters loved both on screen and in print. Her books have now sold over one million copies worldwide.
Ann worked as a probation officer, bird observatory cook and auxiliary coastguard before she started writing. She is a member of ‘Murder Squad’, working with other British northern writers to promote crime fiction. In 2006 Ann was awarded the Duncan Lawrie Dagger (CWA Gold Dagger) for Best Crime Novel, for Raven Black, the first book in her Shetland series. In 2012 she was inducted into the CWA Crime Thriller Awards Hall of Fame. Ann lives in North Tyneside.
