The gardener had been wrong.
For once, Stuart Wagg had not fallen on his feet.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
‘Hannah, you’ve heard the news?’
Daniel’s voice was low and tense and disturbingly good to hear. She pressed the mobile closer to her ear. He’d rung the moment she hurried out of the well-lit entrance of Divisional HQ into the night. It had been a long and hard day and it wasn’t about to improve. Tonight she had to confront Marc about Bethany Friend.
‘Stuart Wagg is dead.’
‘Louise and I found the body.’
‘Horrible for you. I’m sorry.’
‘Louise has never seen a corpse before.’
‘Is she OK?’
‘Shocked, as you’d expect. He was so wrong for her, but she can’t understand why someone murdered him.’
‘Assuming he was murdered. Until the forensic people have finished-’
‘His head was badly wounded and he’d been shoved down an old well which was then covered up. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that he could climb out. I really don’t think there’s any chance of accident or suicide, do you?’ He paused for breath. ‘Hey, this is a bad idea. You’re a chief inspector, it’s more than your job’s worth to discuss what has happened.’
She dug her nails into her palm. I’ve blown it.
‘I didn’t mean-’
‘Louise is a suspect, bound to be.’ He groaned. ‘Stupid of me to call. As a matter of fact, I don’t have an alibi myself.’
‘Don’t talk nonsense.’
He didn’t reply. One of the senior women from Legal stepped into a pool of light cast by the security lamps. She waved as she headed at a brisk clip for her people carrier at the other end of the car park. Hannah waved back and mouthed goodnight.
She softened her tone. ‘Listen, I’m glad you rang me. You want to meet?’
‘Thanks, but I don’t want you to feel compromised,’ he muttered.
‘This isn’t my case, there’s no question of compromising me.’ She was far from certain about that, but what the hell? She was sick of trying to do the right thing. ‘You and I are friends. Your dad was my boss. Nobody can stop us having a conversation.’
A pause.
‘You’re sure?’
‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’
Despite himself, he laughed. ‘All right, you’ve persuaded me. When?’
‘When suits you?’
A pause. ‘I suppose there’s no chance of later tonight?’
And then there were two. The last customer had long gone when Mrs Beveridge finished cashing up and disappeared into the evening cold. Cassie put the Closed sign on the door and collected her coat and scarf. Marc stood at the counter, checking an Internet auction sale, as she approached him.
‘Goodnight, Marc.’
‘Your car’s fixed, I hope?’
She shook her head. ‘The garage said it will be a couple more days. No problem, the bus journey gives me a chance to unwind.’
‘Am I such a taskmaster that you need an hour to unwind?’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘What time is your bus?’
She clicked her tongue in annoyance as she checked her watch. ‘Bummer. I just missed one. Never mind. I think they run every half hour.’
‘In January? You’ll be lucky. Don’t worry, I’ll give you a lift.’
‘Very kind, but I don’t want to take you out of your way again.’
‘It’s not out of my way at all.’ He spun round quickly, before she could protest, then called back over his shoulder.‘Give me five minutes.’
As he busied himself, quite unnecessarily, behind the closed door of his office, he told himself this was what she wanted. No harm in it, he deserved a bit of pleasure. Especially after Hannah had concealed her encounter with Daniel Kind. But he didn’t want things to get out of hand.
‘Ready?’ he asked, emerging from his retreat as soon as the stipulated five minutes were up.
‘When you are.’
He set the alarm and followed her outside. The courtyard was deserted. As he locked up, she stamped her feet. He could hear her teeth chattering.
‘God, it’s freezing.’
‘See, I couldn’t let you hang around in the dark, waiting for a bus that might never show up.’
‘I can’t believe you’re my boss,’ she said. ‘Some of the other people I’ve worked for simply couldn’t care less about their staff. But you’re so kind.’
He zipped the shop keys up in his shoulder bag. ‘Perhaps I’m just not very good at being a boss.’
Her smile glittered in the night. ‘You shouldn’t do yourself down all the time. You’re fantastic.’
‘And you’re very good for my morale.’ For a moment, his hand touched hers. Her flesh was cold. ‘You were right, you are freezing.’
She took a couple of strides towards where he was parked. ‘I’ll need to warm up when I get home.’
They climbed into the car. ‘If you like, I’ll buy you a Jameson’s at the godforsaken pub.’
She fastened her seat belt, and smoothed her coat down, demure as a nun. ‘I don’t think so, thanks all the same.’
‘Up to you.’
The car seemed as quiet as a hearse. To break the silence, he switched on the radio. Duffy, covering a Sixties heartbreaker, begging her lover: Don’t go, please stay. He squeezed the steering wheel, aware of Cassie’s body, inches from him. He couldn’t guess what might be in her mind. She kept blowing hot and cold. Was teasing her stock-in-trade, a means of exercising her power over men? The ballad reached a melodramatic climax as he paused at the junction with the main road. At this hour, he usually had to queue, waiting for a gap in the traffic, but tonight both lanes were deserted, as if everyone had already fled home.
Six o’clock. Time for the local headlines.
‘The body of a man has been discovered in the grounds of a house near Bowness,’ the announcer said. ‘Police have refused to confirm reports that the deceased is prominent local solicitor Stuart Wagg. Mr Wagg is believed to have been missing for the past twenty-four hours. Meanwhile, as weather conditions deteriorate across the county…’
‘Shit!’
Marc came within inches of steering the car into a road sign at a fork. They juddered to a halt. Neither of them spoke as their breath misted the windscreen.
‘It’s…’ He found himself lost for words.
‘Unbelievable?’ she murmured.
‘It must be a mistake.’
‘It’s no mistake.’
He peered at her through the darkness. ‘What makes you so certain?’
‘Elementary, my dear Amos. The media wouldn’t mention the name if they weren’t sure of his identity. Imagine the outrage if they’d got it wrong.’
‘I suppose you’re right.’
‘Don’t take my word for it. Your partner’s a detective, she’s bound to be in the know. Why don’t you ask her?’
He’d forgotten that Cassie had once met Hannah. At the time, he’d felt a pinprick of irritation about her visit to the shop: she didn’t take any interest in the business usually, and he suspected her of wanting to size up his latest recruit. Still, it was as well that Cassie knew he was in a relationship. That way there could be no misunderstanding. No recriminations.
‘She’s in charge of the Cold Cases team. Investigating crimes from the past, not in the here and now.’
‘Yes, but she’ll have the inside track. She knew Stuart, you told me you were taking her to his party on New Year’s Eve.’
‘He was in good form that night.’ Marc gazed out into the night. There was no moon; they might be anywhere. Just the two of them, alone in the dark. ‘What in God’s name has happened to him? They said the body was discovered out of doors.’