His plan was to check out how the search at Harry Sunderland’s house was progressing, then wind them in for the night, securing and guarding the property, and recommencing in the morning. After carrying out this task, he intended to hare back to Blackpool and crash out at home so he wouldn’t have a long journey to Blackpool nick when he got up. Both he and Flynn had discounted staying at headquarters.
It was all very well having the landlady of a country pub as a lady friend, but when the pub was so far out in the sticks, it was sometimes inconvenient geographically. The benefits did outweigh this minus point, though… and his mind drifted to Alison as he drove.
Behind him, driving Alison’s car, was Flynn.
He realized he was supernumerary, just a bit of an annoyance to Henry, and whilst he was keen to stay involved, he knew he had no right to be under Henry’s feet.
The decision he took was that when they reached Lancaster, he would flash Henry to stop and tell him he was taking a step out of it. He was going to go to the hospital to visit Colin, catch up with Diane, apologize for all the crap that had dogged him since he’d landed — not least the complete and utter destruction of their beloved narrowboat.
He had an idea that he would actually bed down in the chandlery itself. When he’d had an initial mooch around the place, he had found that upstairs, apart from the room used to store goods that had probably once been a bedroom, there was also a functioning bathroom with an old sink and a loo. It would be good enough for him, should keep him out of mischief and ensure he was right on the shop to look after it.
Damn, he thought… he was pining for the simple life he’d carved out for himself in Puerto Rico… sun, fishing, uncomplicated sex, more fishing… his mind drifted to the Canary Islands as he drove.
Flynn followed Henry up the M6 northbound and they exited at junction 34, north Lancaster, and turned towards the city. It was on this stretch of road that Flynn flashed Henry to pull in and stop. He could have used the mobile, but wanted to speak face to face.
‘What is it?’ Henry growled irritably by the roadside. It was getting cold and a bit unpleasant and he was shivering.
Flynn grinned and decided not to rile Henry any further.
‘Look, Henry, I’m gonna cut and run here. I’m just a pain in the arse to you — no, don’t say anything, I know you don’t think that. I need to do what I came here to do. I keep saying it and then doing something different. Diane’s going to need someone to sort out the salvage of the canal boat and I need to run that shop properly. I’m going to be here for the next week, if you actually need me, then I’m on the big silver bird back to the sunshine — where I belong.’
‘So you’re going to trust me to do my job?’ Henry said sardonically.
‘Yup.’ Flynn again held back the urge to have a dig.
‘Thanks.’ Henry tried not to show his relief, because even though Flynn had basically saved his life twice, having him hanging around the investigation was pushing it, ex-cop or not. ‘We still need to sit down and get your statements sorted and speak to CPS about stuff.’
‘As to whether I’m going to get charged with two murders, you mean?’
‘That won’t happen.’ Henry shook his head. ‘Trust me, I’m a superintendent. Are you going back to the Owl?’
‘Naah, but thanks. I’ll crash down at the chandlery.’
‘You know you’re welcome…’
‘I know and thanks. If I could keep hold of Alison’s motor for another night that would be good.’
Henry nodded an OK. ‘We’ll speak tomorrow. I’ll let you know what’s happening.’ They shook hands hesitantly.
Henry got into his car and breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank G for that.’
Flynn got into Alison’s car and again followed Henry as he drove into Lancaster, but as Henry bore right across the River Lune, Flynn carried on up through the one-way system to the hospital.
Sunderland lived in a luxurious seventeenth-century converted barn just outside Halton on the north bank of the Lune. It was about twice the size of Joe Speakman’s house and fitted out much more expensively. It was clear that Sunderland had made real money. Henry estimated the house was probably worth in excess of a million, particularly as its location was magnificent, set high on a hill with a great view of a curve in the river.
Henry drew up just inside the gate, stopping at the side of a wide gravelled driveway that swept up to the front of the house. Parking in front of him were several police vehicles and it was apparent that the search teams were already busy.
Henry flashed his warrant card at the constable controlling the comings and goings to the property, then walked on, his eyes taking in the darkening building, including two large detached garages, a stable block and a detached workshop.
‘Nice,’ he found himself saying.
He found the sergeant in charge of the search, directing operations from the huge kitchen, the house crawling with overall-clad bobbies.
‘Boss,’ he greeted Henry.
‘Hi, Dave,’ Henry said, knowing the guy well enough. ‘How’s it going?’
The sergeant shrugged. ‘We’ve found a lot of documents which relate to various things: the haulage company, property, vehicle hire and purchase and the usual household stuff. Quite a lot of it I don’t understand. The financial analysts will love it, I guess.’
Henry nodded.
‘Do you actually know what you’re looking for?’ the sergeant asked.
Henry smiled. ‘No, not really — that’s why the authorizations are so vague… the only thing is that I believe his wife had something on her when she went into the river that is vitally important to someone and when she was fished out, she didn’t have it.’
‘Where did she go in?’
‘That remains a mystery.’
‘How about we search the grounds from the house down to the river,’ the sergeant suggested.
‘For what?’
‘For what that thing might be.’
‘Nothing lost, though we don’t know for sure if she went in around here, although the garden seems to run right down to the river.’
‘We’ll have to do it tomorrow, though. Daylight’s virtually gone now.’
‘Fine,’ Henry said. ‘How far have you got internally?’
‘Just a few rooms on the ground floor. It’s a big house, lots of nooks and crannies. I reckon we get back for seven in the morning, then blat the place all day.’
‘Sounds like a plan.’
Flynn walked through the hospital corridors, having had a short visit to his friend, Colin. Diane walked along with him, their heads bowed with a cloud of melancholy above them.
Colin had been asleep, under the effects of powerful pain relief and tranquillizers.
When Flynn had walked into the room where Colin’s bed had been relocated, Diane was sitting at his bedside, clasping his hand, her forehead resting on it. She raised her head slowly when Flynn coughed quietly, the corners of her mouth turned down, strain beyond belief etched deeply across her features. She placed Colin’s hand gently on the bed and stood up, looking weak, then fell into Flynn’s embrace and held on tightly for a long time, sobbing, choking into his chest. Flynn stood there numb, holding her and looked at his old friend in the bed.
Eventually Flynn steered her out into the corridor, which was when she looked properly at him for the first time. She gasped, ‘Flynnie, what’s been happening!’
What he really wanted to know was what was happening to Colin. He presumed it was very bad news. ‘Don’t worry about me. How’s Colin?’
‘Really poorly at the moment. I thought he seemed OK at first, but
…’
‘Maybe the side-effects of a big operation?’ Flynn said. They were facing each other and he was holding her hands by the fingertips. ‘You look tired, sweetie,’ he said softly.
She nodded. ‘Buy me a coffee? Bring me up to speed with what’s going on with you and the boat… bet you really regret coming back to England.’