BLOOD SECRETS a gripping crime thriller full of suspense (21 page)

‘When was this?’

Saltby looked around, rubbing his throat. ‘What day is it today?’

‘Monday.’

‘Thursday, I think.’

Swift could feel sweat slicking his forehead. He took his jacket off. ‘Stay there. I’m going to fetch you a blanket and turn the heating down.’

He switched a thermostat on the wall by the stairs from thirty to fifteen degrees and ran up to the landing. He headed to the front bedroom. It was hot and smelled sour. There was a pool of vomit on the carpet by the single bed. He took the duvet and checked the room and the bathroom cabinet, making sure that there were no more sleeping tablets lying around.

Downstairs, he placed the duvet over Saltby.

‘Have you got any painkillers? My head is thumping.’

Swift felt his pulse again. It was stronger. ‘When did you last eat and drink?’

‘Ahmm, not sure. Days ago. I’ve been awake for a while but I didn’t want to get up. Couldn’t.’

‘Okay. I’m going to get you something to eat. Then after that you can have painkillers. You understand?’

Saltby nodded, closed his eyes and rested his head on the cushion. In the kitchen Swift found sliced bread and made toast with honey for them both and two large mugs of tea. He was running on empty himself. They sat in silence as they ate. Saltby was gradually looking more alert but when he had finished he started crying silently. Swift cleared away the empty dishes, refilled Saltby’s mug and gave it to him with a couple of painkillers he found in a kitchen drawer.

‘Thanks. Sorry about this.’ Saltby pressed his hands into his eyes and pushed the duvet down.

‘Are you feeling stronger?’

‘A bit.’

‘You were dehydrated and hungry. Did your mother and Manchester leave here on Thursday?’

‘I think so.’

‘Why did he give you sleeping tablets? To buy them time?’

Saltby nodded and yawned. His eyes still leaked tears.

‘Drink that tea. You need to give me answers, Joshua. Try and concentrate. Your father threw you and your mother out last Wednesday and you came here. What happened then?’

Saltby sipped the tea, staring miserably ahead. He spoke dully.

‘When I was little, we had a story in school about some animals who went to tell the king the sky was falling. That’s how I feel, as if the sky has fallen. Everything is in ruins.’

Swift felt an echoing tug of pain. ‘Just tell me, Joshua. If the sky has fallen, the worst has already happened.’

‘I need the bathroom.’

‘Okay, but don’t lock the door in case you feel unwell again.’

He walked around the tiny living room while Saltby was in the bathroom. It was bright and clean because of its newness but the furniture was worn and the only decoration was the same large cross that he had seen at the Saltbys’. A heavy bible lay on a chair. Apart from knowing they were religious, you’d have no clue about the person who lived here. Saltby returned, the front of his hair damp from where he had washed his face. He took the duvet and wrapped it around his shoulders, hugging it like a child with a comforter. Swift sat and waited.

‘My mother was in a bad way when we got here. I thought she was having a breakdown. I was . . . I don’t know, stunned, I suppose. Graham was furious with me when she told him I’d given the money to Teddy Bartlett. She was too. She said I’d betrayed her. She’d done everything to protect me and I’d gone behind her back yet again, so many years later. I tried to explain about how I’d felt but the more I talked about Teddy, the angrier she got. I’ve never seen her that way.’ He pulled his feet up under the duvet, seeming more childlike by the minute.

‘I suppose she felt that her world had been blown apart.’

‘She said . . . she said that she had made a pact with the devil himself to protect me and all I did was shame her. Graham was ranting at me as well, saying terrible sacrifices had been made for me. I was frightened. I’d have left then but I had nowhere to go. I couldn’t even go to the chapel because Graham had the keys. Can I have some more water?’

Swift brought another glass to him. He was still pallid but the shaking had stopped. He drank, and wiped his lips.

‘I tried to defend myself, saying I’d done my best as pastor, to be the son she wanted and make up for my sin. I said it had been a constant struggle, suppressing those desires. I couldn’t even confess the awful truth of it, the countless days I’ve stood, looking at women’s clothes in shop windows. The times I’ve looked away or literally run when a man has given me a certain glance, the longings and dreams I’ve battled with. They could tell, I suppose, smell it on me like some awful, sulphurous stench. I’ve lived my life feeling as if unseen forces are pulling me in different directions. My mother howled then. She smacked me across the face. Then she told me. Graham attacked Teddy. He thought he’d killed him. He intended to. Oh God, this is so awful!’

‘Go on, tell me everything she said.’

He took a breath, held it for a moment. ‘She said what was she supposed to do? She had a son and daughter who were both deviants. We were the ones at fault but she would be blamed. She was terrified that our father would find out. She prayed on her knees day and night but no answer came. Graham found her in tears in chapel so she told him what had been going on. They agreed that the only thing to do was rid the world of the sinful boy who had brought her children so low. As long as he was around, spreading his evil and temptation, the family was at risk of further iniquity. The Select Flock would be tainted if what had been happening ever got out. With him gone, we could all be on the true path again. She used the computer at work to contact Teddy on the website I’d told her about. She pretended to be a practising Druid and a . . . a pervert like him. She got him chatting. She and Graham read up about the kinds of things to say. She said she was seventeen. She spun him a sob story about being unhappy at home and wanting to leave. He was hungry for the claptrap she fed him, he swallowed it all. They agreed to meet in Epping Forest, conduct a cleansing ritual and seek a new life. Graham was there waiting for him. They thought he was dead. She said they’d done all this for me and all I could do was creep about behind her back, giving our money to that boy who blighted our lives! She tried to make me kneel, said I should be going down on my knees to Graham to thank him for what he did . . .’

He closed his eyes, took another breath. Swift waited.

‘Graham started in then, telling Mum not to upset herself. He said he’d do it all again, to cut the worm of darkness from our midst and keep Mum safe. He told me if he’d known that I was still a worm in their midst he’d have dealt with me too. Then he said I wasn’t fit to wipe my mother’s shoes, let alone be their pastor.’ Saltby hammered his fists against his temples. ‘He was right. I’m not fit,’ he said dully. He laughed suddenly, a hysterical sound. ‘Do you remember I said I’d given Teddy the money because I worried that he had come to harm because he’d fallen into bad company? Such irony! What did we do to him? I lied about who I was and then my own mother did the same.’

Swift looked at him. Hopeful, confused, gullible Teddy. He hadn’t stood a chance with the bait that had been laid so carefully.

‘Have you any idea where they’ve gone?’

‘No. Graham made me take the tablets. He said I couldn’t be trusted not to betray them. My mother said I’d never see her again.’

‘Have they got family anywhere? Are there places they went on holiday?’

‘We never had holidays. Mum hasn’t got a passport. There’s no family that I know of. My mother is as good as a murderer and all because of me. I wish Graham had given me enough tablets to kill me.’ He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his head.

Swift couldn’t summon much sympathy. ‘You have to face this now and deal with it. It’s the least you can do for Teddy. I’m going to ring the police. They’ll need to speak to you. Do you understand?’ He raised his voice. ‘Joshua, look at me!’

Saltby looked up and nodded.

‘Good. I think you should have a shower and get dressed while I make some calls.’

Swift went out to the patio and phoned Archie Lorrimer’s mobile. The sky above was now a cheerless knife grey. After his call to the police he saw that he’d received an email from a hotel in Bath. He had sent them a query about a double room in January, planning his trip with Kris as a New Year treat. He deleted it without reading the message.

Chapter 15

Swift’s new boat had arrived. It was made of super carbon and gel-coated, a much superior model to his previous one. He had made it ready and taken it for a first trip on the river. It was a raw, still day, most of the trees now bare. The river banks looked stripped and bleak. The season suited his mood. He sculled for miles, stopping only for water and some fruit and once to look at a small flock of ringed plover through his binoculars. It was a lovely craft, well balanced in the water, yet he could take little pleasure from it. Memories of Kris kept ambushing him, the little caps she wore tilted on her hair, the way she blew her fringe back, the enthusiasm with which she demolished puddings. She had been so full of infectious vitality, so full of plans. Although they had only been lovers for a short while, he had thought the relationship could deepen, become long-term.

He shook himself and thought of the Bartletts. DI Lorrimer had told him that Sheila had confessed to suffocating Clara, the baby found dead after the party. She had heard her crying, she said. When she picked her up and tried to comfort her, she wouldn’t stop. She had panicked and held a pillow over her face. Lorrimer said that given the events that had taken place with her own baby the year before, she had probably been suffering postnatal depression. That would certainly be taken into account at any trial. Joshua Saltby had been interviewed about his association with Teddy and a search for his mother and Manchester was underway.

‘He’s a deeply troubled man, all over the place emotionally,’ Lorrimer had said. ‘He’s staying in a seedy bed and breakfast, says he can’t bear to be at Manchester’s, and obviously the family home is a no-go area. He said he’d like to get in touch with his sister and asked if you could find out if she’ll talk to him.’

‘I can contact her and see. I’ll phone her.’

Swift had met with Rowan Bartlett, to update him about Teddy. There was a
Sold
sign outside the house and the place had been cleaned. Bartlett himself was also looking smarter. He seemed bemused, rather than angered or upset, by the details of how his son had been lured to Epping Forest.

‘How can these people have called themselves religious and carried out such a terrible crime? It’s hard to take in. And this . . . this Graham Manchester is a church-goer?’

‘Yes. The whole family are deeply religious. Crimes are committed in the name of religion, unfortunately. You can read about that every day.’

‘Poor Teddy. Poor boy. To have his hopes crushed . . .’

‘Dorcas Saltby and Manchester were very clever in the way they went about contacting him. Fury, fear and desperation made her cunning. She saw Teddy as a menace to her family and her church, as did Manchester when she told him. If Teddy was removed, the status quo could be re-established and temptation removed from Joshua and Judith.’

‘I’m glad you got to the truth of it. But my goodness, such awful people! How unfortunate for Teddy that he got mixed up with the daughter.’

‘For what it’s worth, they were very fond of each other. I think Judith provided some stability and refuge for Teddy at a difficult time.’

‘Yes. He must have suffered, knowing what he did about Sheila. She’s been remanded to a psychiatric unit until her trial. I’m not sure she will ever recover, especially as she won’t be able to work in nursing again. I’ve informed her about Teddy. She’s having medication at present, so I’m not sure how much has sunk in.’ He winced. ‘In fact, they’ve asked me not to visit again for a while. She gets upset when she sees me.’

‘Have you told Tim about Teddy?’

‘I emailed him, about Teddy and Sheila. He hasn’t replied. I can only do so much.’

Two sons lost to him and his daughter tidied away. Swift watched him make coffee and open some biscuits. He seemed to have no trouble carrying on, making plans.

‘I have a buyer for the house,’ he said brightly. ‘Sold it within twenty-four hours of putting it on the market. I hope it will be a happier place for the new owner.’

‘Where are you moving to?’

‘Cornwall, I think, somewhere by the sea.’

‘A long way from London. You won’t be seeing much of your children, then.’

Bartlett shrugged. ‘I don’t think that will matter to them. I can visit London as and when. Tim and Sheila don’t want my company and Teddy is unaware. I can’t see there’s anything more I can do for them now.’

You could try being around and being a father
,
digging in for the long haul,
Swift thought,
but then why break the habit of a lifetime?

‘Do you think the police will find this Graham Manchester and the Saltby woman?’ Bartlett asked.

‘Probably. They can’t have left the country, as she has no passport. It might take time, depending on how well they can cover their tracks.’

At the front door, Bartlett had said, ‘At least I did this for Teddy, found out who attacked him. Some small comfort.’

Swift had just reached the river bank by his rowing club when his phone rang. It was Alexa Markham.

‘Hello, DI Markham.’

‘Mr Swift, hello. Where are you at the moment?’ She sounded terse.

‘I’ve just been rowing on the river, about to leave my boat. Have you got news?’

‘Yes. Listen, I’m coming over to your home, so head back there now. I’ll see you in about half an hour.’

‘What’s the matter?’

She paused. ‘There’s some news about Kris Jelen. I do need to see you in person. I have to go now.’

She had gone before he could ask any more. A personal visit at home from a DI. Something significant had happened. He felt a sudden nausea. He stowed his boat rapidly and ran home. Indoors he towelled his face and head and paced, looking out of the window. His tracksuit bottoms and fleece top were sweaty but he didn’t want to miss DI Markham’s arrival. She was there within a few minutes and he opened the door before she rang the bell.

‘I haven’t had time to shower, you’ll have to excuse me,’ he said, showing her to a seat in the living room.

‘No problem. Please, sit down. I’ve got some information for you that won’t be easy to listen to.’

She had fine hair, drawn back into a neat bun and a pale, bland face but he knew the look in her eyes. It was the intent, steady gaze of the police officer who bears difficult news. He sat, still holding the towel.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

She adjusted her heavy rimmed glasses. ‘We’ve charged a man with Kris Jelen’s murder. He claims he didn’t mean to kill her. I’m afraid you know him.’

‘Who?’

‘His name is Francis Howell.’

Swift stared at her. He felt as if time had stopped. Moisture dripped down the back of his neck.

‘Yes, I know him. Go on,’ he said.

She nodded, lacing her fingers together. ‘We got a match from the fingerprint we found. Howell has been in prison before for petty crime, but I think you know that. We’ve also interviewed an Emlyn Taylor. He had previously employed Howell to carry out a campaign of harassment against you because you had been seeing his wife. You reported a series of incidents to your local police, although, it seems, not all of them. Howell admitted a knife attack on you which we have no previous details of.’

‘Yes. I didn’t report the attack because the harassing stopped. I spoke to Taylor on the phone after Howell broke in here and it stopped.’

‘Right, okay. Obviously, it would have been better if you had informed the police about that assault. I’m afraid that after Emlyn Taylor agreed to call off Howell, he thought he had reason to take further action. He wanted Howell to find out if you had a partner and frighten her, torment her. Howell claims that he went to Kris’s flat that night to scare her but she started shouting and coming at him and he panicked. Having sat for some time with him, I’m inclined to believe him. He’s not the brightest and I can imagine him just reacting in the only way he knows, in that situation.’

Swift recalled the knife that Howell had wielded on the night he broke in. It was still in his kitchen drawer. He felt cold streaks of sweat on his skin. ‘Why did Taylor want to start this again?’

DI Markham took a breath. It was clear that she was approaching the most difficult part of the visit.

‘Mr Taylor informed us that Ruth, his wife, told him that he is not the father of the child she is expecting. She said that you are the father. She packed and left their home after a blazing row. He says he doesn’t know where she has gone. After hearing this, he was beside himself. He got hold of Howell again, told him what had happened and sent him on another task. Howell found out that you were seeing Kris and went to her flat that evening. I’m so sorry.’

Swift pressed the towel against his face and blinked into it, marshalling control. He swallowed hard.

‘Have Kris’s parents been told all this?’

‘Yes. It took a while for them to understand. They flew back to Poland this morning. Kris’s body has been released and they’ve arranged for her to be returned to Lodz later today.’

Mrs Jelen wouldn’t want to hold on to his hand or offer him comfort now, he thought. She was probably wishing her daughter had never met him.

‘So,’ he said slowly. ‘Kris died because of me.’

DI Markham sat forward. ‘You know that’s not true. She died because a man called Francis Howell strangled her. Can I get you a glass of water?’

‘No. it’s okay. What about Taylor?’

‘We’re mulling over what to do about him and taking advice because of his illness. He’ll probably be charged with encouraging a crime. You won’t be surprised to hear he’s got himself a top notch lawyer. He’s on bail at present and at home.’

‘And Ruth? Ruth doesn’t know about her husband and Howell or Kris’s death?’

‘Not as far as I know.’

‘If I’d come back to the police about Howell and Taylor, when I found Howell here and discovered what was going on, this might never have happened. Kris would still be alive.’

‘It’s hard to know. There’s not much point tormenting yourself about
what ifs
. You’ve been in the force. You’ll have said this kind of thing to grieving people yourself. I know it’s different when you’re involved, but it’s still true. Given Taylor’s state of mind when his wife gave him this news, he might still have gone after you indirectly. I would say that the man is warped in his thinking, mentally unwell. I don’t know how much that might be related to his illness. He certainly sees himself as hard done by, a victim. He seemed to think his actions were justified. People behave in strange ways when they believe the world’s against them.’ Her phone beeped and she glanced at it. ‘Look, I have to go now. I’ll need you to come and make a full statement about what happened previously with Howell and the background with Emlyn and Ruth Taylor.’

‘Have you been in contact with Ruth?’

‘I’ve tried but she’s not answering her phone. Her family in Shropshire haven’t heard from her. I shan’t be pursuing her. She has no direct involvement with what’s happened. I expect you’ll try to reach her, given what I’ve told you.’

He sat after she had gone, pressing his towel against his face again. He tried to think about what he had been told, to sort it out in his mind but his head felt full of cotton wool. Two women, one dead, one probably alone and possibly frightened, and carrying his child. Life had imploded around him. He groaned and called out Kris’s name. In his mind’s eye he could see Howell forcing his way through her door when she opened it. He imagined her alarm. Howell would have started playing his new game, taunting her, telling her he knew where she lived now and she’d hear more from him. He might have mentioned Swift in that cocky way of his, might have asked her if she knew that her boyfriend had got another woman pregnant. Through her fear, she probably realised that he was the man who had previously attacked Swift. Maybe Howell had strutted around the living room, throwing a few of her sewing implements on the floor to emphasise his control and knowledge of her life. She would have been incensed by such disrespect. That was probably when she summoned the courage to shout at him and that was when he panicked. She might have died, then, at the hands of that low life, knowing that Swift and Ruth’s relationship was far from over and wondering if Swift already knew about the baby.

He forced himself to shower and shave, staring at his misery-filled eyes in the mirror. He had brought misfortune directly to Kris’s door through his own careless actions. He knew that he would never put down the burden of that knowledge. As he picked up his razor, he saw a tiny tube of moisturiser tucked under the rim of the glass shelf and teased it out with his finger tip. It was Kris’s. They hadn’t yet got to the stage where they were leaving toiletries at each other’s homes but he recalled the evening when she said she’d been given some freebies when she was shopping — shower gel, soap, a scented linen sachet. She had opened the tube of moisturiser for him to sniff and laughed when it made him sneeze. He undid the cap and inhaled the mild orange and honey scent. It was all he had to remind him of her. He stood there for a long time, the tube in his hand, his mind crowded with
what ifs.

* * *

It was almost midnight. There was a gale blowing, whipping in from the river, the wind moaning in the chimney. Swift sat with a hot whisky laced with sugar and lemon. Mary and Cedric had just left. He had wanted to tell them both his news so that he could be honest with them and not have to repeat the painful details. They had brought a spicy takeaway and over the food he had told them about Ruth and how ultimately his ongoing relationship with her had impacted on Kris. They had been stunned but kind, not saying much. When he walked Mary to her car she linked arms with him, pulling him into her in a gesture he was glad of.