Carnal Acts (28 page)

Ollie Forrest, his face covered, went to paradise again with the woman. Then he made a mistake.

‘What’s this all about?’ he asked. ‘I don’t have to be tied down.’

Nothing happened for some minutes – he had no clear idea of time. Then she was over his legs and away. He heard low voices a few yards away, then heavy feet approached. His balaclava was pulled off, but the bulky figure before him was still wearing his. Before Ollie could move, the point of the cattle prod made contact with his bare belly. He screamed as his body arced upwards.

‘You don’t fucking talk to her,’ the man said. His voice was low and contorted.

The point touched him again and Ollie screamed even louder than before.

‘Got it? If you’d kept your trap shut, I’d have undone the cuffs. Now you can shit in the bed and lie in it for all I care.’ He turned to go and slammed the door behind him.

Ollie blinked away tears. At least the prod hadn’t been on a high setting, though if it had been he’d have lost consciousness, which would have been better. His belly was burning and he realised he’d wet himself. He shook at the cuffs vainly. Who was the woman? Some horrible cow who couldn’t get a shag? He didn’t have that impression from the lithe limbs that had been in contact with his. They told him nothing about her face. But why bother taking
him
prisoner? You could get fucked by any wide boy in Corham or Newcastle if you paid a few quid, even if you were a paper-bag job.

The scream from above interrupted his thoughts. It either
came from a woman or from a boy whose balls hadn’t dropped. Surely it couldn’t be the woman who’d ridden him. Was she a prisoner too? In that case the man in the balaclava was a seriously twisted tosser. He recalled the man’s voice. He’d heard it before. Not in that form – it was being disguised, he was sure of that.

The second scream was louder, as his had been. Was the other prisoner being given the cattle prod too? What the hell was going on?

Joni was speaking to Heck. ‘You’re at my mother’s?’ she said, in astonishment.

‘I’ll explain later.’

‘Listen, sir, Rosie Etherington’s come clean. The general
did
leave after they ate on Sunday night. She doesn’t know where he went, but he took around half an hour to come and pick her up when she told him that Nick was at Force HQ.’

‘All right, he’s here. I’ll ask him about it.’

‘Can you wait for me, sir? I’d like to be involved.’

‘We’ll bring him back to Corham.’

‘No!’ Joni almost screamed. ‘I’ve got a strange feeling about this. I want to find out what my mother knows about him. Please?’

‘All right, but get a move on.’

Joni did so. Her driving skills had improved since she’d moved north and her long-instilled London driver’s aggression meant that she encountered few delays. As she went along the narrow country roads, she thought about Moonbeam. What on earth could Michael Etherington have been doing there? She immediately thought of sex. Her mother was shameless about getting men into bed, even in her late fifties, although the last Joni had
heard she was working her way through the local male population. She hoped they had joy of her. She suspected Moonbeam took more than she gave between the sheets. Why wouldn’t she as that was her philosophy of life, no matter how much she dressed it up in New Age flummery?

She went along the track, the Land Rover crashing up and down, and stopped behind a squad car at the start of the track that led to her mother’s cottage. Heck and the general were standing by the latter’s Jaguar, talking animatedly.

‘Sir,’ Joni said to her boss.

Heck looked at her guiltily. ‘Ah, Joni. We were minding the times about … er, Corham Rugby Club.’

‘Uh-huh. This is a bit of a surprise.’

Heck nodded. ‘I’m told your mother’s using her powers to help the general find his son’s killer.’

‘Her
powers
?’

‘That’s right,’ Michael Etherington said. ‘She has quite a reputation.’

‘You can say that again. You don’t seriously believe in that mumbo-jumbo?’

The general gave her a stern glance. ‘I’m prepared to use any means to locate the bastard who killed Nick.’

‘We’re the only effective means,’ Heck said. ‘Right now, something has come to light that DI Pax needs to ask you about. We can do this informally or back at Force HQ.’

‘Here is perfectly suitable,’ the general said, with no sign of concern. ‘What is it you want from me?’

‘The following,’ Joni said, her eyes on his. ‘Where were you on Sunday evening?’

‘You know that. At home with Rosie.’

Joni felt the words raise goose pimples. That was a recent development. Before the disastrous Met operation, she hadn’t been physically affected by blatant lies.

‘General, your daughter-in-law told me that you left home after you’d eaten with her and that you needed half an hour
to come back to pick her up later.’ She was glad to see that her words had an effect on Michael Etherington, making him jerk back as if she’d spat in his face.

He stood looking at her, his jaws working. Then he turned to Heck. ‘It’s a private matter.’

‘There’s no privacy in a murder case,’ Joni said, ‘especially not for close relatives of the victim.’

‘What are you suggesting?’ he said, eyes wide. ‘That I killed Nick?’

Joni held her nerve. ‘Your daughter-in-law gave you an alibi for
that
evening too.’ Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Heck step closer. For a few moments, she thought the general was going to hit her, then the tension went out of his body and his shoulders slumped.

‘I … I did ask Rosie to cover for me on Sunday.’ He looked at Heck, cutting Joni out of his confession. ‘You see … I … there’s part of my life that I … that I don’t … didn’t want anyone to know about.’

‘What is it, Michael?’ Heck said, in a low voice. ‘We need to know.’

‘Oh for God’s sake, it’s nothing to be ashamed about. When I … when I was in Bosnia, I came to understand that my men were precious to me. I mourned every loss, every serious injury, I wanted to wipe the blood away myself…’ He shook his head and tears flew into the air. ‘I wanted … I wanted to kiss them.’

Joni kept quiet, aware that any intervention from her would make him clam up.

‘You’re saying you’re gay?’ Heck asked, incredulity breaking through.

Michael Etherington nodded slowly. ‘I didn’t do anything about it until Christine died, but then I needed more than Rosie could give me in terms of emotional support. She was grieving for my fool of a son. So I … I used an internet dating site and I met a man in Newcastle.’ He smiled weakly. ‘He’s a lovely fellow, in his late thirties, calm and considerate. I was there on Sunday evening.’

‘All right,’ Heck said. ‘I’m afraid I’ll need his name and phone number. Address, too.’

The general opened his mouth, but then took out a notepad and wrote on it, tearing off the page and handing it to Heck. He didn’t look at Joni at all.

She didn’t care. She was going to have a serious conversation with her mother.

Pete Rokeby went back up to the moors to see if the SOCOs had found anything else. He knew it wasn’t on his list of actions for the day, but he was disturbed by the farmer’s disappearance and thought it wasn’t being taken seriously enough. When he got out of the car, he was buffetted by the wind that was turning the turbine rotors rapidly.

‘How’s it going?’ he asked Yates, the chief technician.

The middle-aged man was on his knees. He pointed to a tyre track. ‘That wasn’t made by the quad bike. I’d say it’s from a pickup, the kind farming types use. The tread’s heavy-duty, but the tyre isn’t particularly wide. We should be able to get a decent cast.’

Pete Rokeby nodded and went over to the edge of a steep and rocky chasm. It fell a couple of hundred feet and, at the bottom, trees and bushes were thickly clustered around a burn. ‘Think the Albanian woman or the farmer went down there?’

‘Only if they were interested in suicide.’

‘How else can you get off the moor?’

Yates pointed to the east. ‘There’s a track along the fence on this side, then the ground drops. Oliver Forrest’s place is about a mile further on, but before it there are three roads running north.’ Pete followed his arm. ‘The first goes into the National Park, the second leads to the south end of the Favon estate and the third winds down to join the Rothbury road.’

‘So we look for more tracks like this one and see where Forrest’s attacker turned.’

Yates nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. ‘It’s been pretty dry. The roads off the moor are all asphalt. We may not be able to follow him.’

‘Or her. Maybe the Albanian woman laid into them both and took the vehicle.’

‘Could be, DS Rokeby.’ Yates grinned. ‘I’m glad I don’t have to work it out.’

Thanks a lot, Pete said, under his breath. He called Heck Rutherford, but his number was engaged.

‘Right, Mother, what the hell have you been up to?’

‘Good day to you, Joni.’ Moonbeam smiled at her daughter across the festooned living room. ‘It’s lovely to see you.’

‘What was he really doing here?’

‘Who, the policeman? Don’t you know? You work with him.’

‘Not the policeman!’ Joni yelled. ‘Michael Etherington!’

‘Sit down,’ Moonbeam said, the smile still on her lips. ‘You’re disturbing the spirits.’

‘The spirits.’ Joni shook her head. ‘Do you know what that man’s going through?’

‘Of course. He told me.’ Moonbeam pointed to the papers on the table. ‘I’m working on a spell to help him find the killer of his grandson. Murder always creates a black cloud and it follows the perpetrator around.’

‘Really? That would explain why Hitler’s executioners were all so effortlessly tracked down.’

Her mother ignored that. She had a limited knowledge of history. ‘You’re so set in your ways, Joni. Didn’t that wonderful education teach you to open your mind? Of course, opening
your mind isn’t enough. You must also open your soul.’

Joni stepped closer to Moonbeam. ‘You know how
open-minded
I am. For a start, I turned vegetarian decades before you did.’

‘Ah, that was a terrible mistake on my part. I blame living in the big city. As soon as I came here, I realised how wrong I’d been.’ Moonbeam gave a crooked smile. ‘Then again, the men I was seeing all demanded meat, though not necessarily with two veg.’

Joni glared at her. ‘I don’t suppose you were extending your favours to Nick Etherington?’

‘The dead boy? No, but I wish I had been. Michael gave me a photo of him for my work. He was beautiful indeed.’

‘What about the general? Any hanky-panky with him?’

Moonbeam’s laugh filled the room. ‘Hanky-panky? Honestly, Joni, you sound like your grandmother. Do you mean Michael? I don’t understand titles. Was he in the army?’

Joni had believed her mother concerning Nick, but she was less convinced about Michael Etherington, even after his confession. He’d been married for years. Maybe he was bisexual.

‘Handsome man, though,’ Moonbeam continued. ‘Apart from the awful sadness in his eyes. He told me his son and then his wife died.’

‘And now his grandson.’

‘Life can be very hard for those who disregard the essential equilibria.’

Joni swallowed a laugh. ‘The what?’

‘There you go again, mocking forces you don’t understand.’ Her mother looked severe. ‘Besides, I don’t get involved with paying customers.’

‘Very ethical. Who
are
you involved with then?’

‘You’ve no business asking that, Joni.’

‘You aren’t usually so reticent. I spent my childhood being regaled with the virtues of numerous men, most of whom disappeared after a week or two.’

‘Yes, well, things are different now. I’ve got a serious lover.’

‘Really? What’s his name? What does he do? Is he married?’

Her mother turned and walked into the kitchen. Joni followed, gagging at the smell from a large pot on the ancient stove.

‘What’s that?’

‘Nothing that concerns you. This is turning into an interrogation. Take your nasty police attitude somewhere else.’

Joni removed a bunch of herbs from one of the two chairs and sat at the rickety table. ‘Sorry. If you don’t want to tell me about your new man, fine.’

‘No, darling,’ Moonbeam said, coming over and taking her daughter’s hand. ‘I do. I will. But not now. These interruptions have caused a disjunction between my being and the…’

‘Essential equilibria?’

Her mother smiled, missing – or ignoring – the irony. ‘If you’d only open yourself to the forces of the cosmos. Joni, I understand you. You’re still hurting from what happened in London. I can help you get over it.’

Joni pushed the chair back hard. ‘I have to go.’

‘Don’t be like that. Come over on Sunday. We’ll have lunch and I’ll introduce you to my man.’

‘Sorry, I’ve got a prior engagement.’ Joni was glad Ag’s invitation meant she would avoid the nut rissoles and over-cooked greenery – some of it bizarre – that her mother would serve. ‘I’ll drop by in the late afternoon. In the meantime, keep an eye out for any strange young women and lock your doors.’

‘Your colleague – Heck, was it? – told me about the Albanian. I’ll sense her long before she comes close, don’t worry.’

Joni raised her eyes to the ceiling and promptly wished she hadn’t. What looked like a fisherman’s net had been strung from the corners and was weighed down by decaying creatures. There were rats, crabs, a squirrel, even a bat.

‘Lovely.’

‘The physical envelopes of creatures who have passed on have a certain value to my craft,’ Moonbeam said. ‘If you’re
wondering, they were dead when I acquired them. I told your colleague. You know, he has a great sadness in his eyes too and his body has been broken. I can help hi—’

‘I know, Mother. You can help everyone. Unfortunately, when I was a kid, you forgot to help me.’

For once Moonbeam was silenced.

Outside, Joni looked around. She was tempted to go over to the outhouses – the nearer one had definitely been renovated since she’d last been there – but she didn’t want another encounter with her mother. The sound of Joni Mitchell’s plangent voice from the open window confirmed that decision.