Dying to Know (A Detective Inspector Berenice Killick Mystery) (47 page)

‘I look around at this place I have called my home, and I know that soon it will no longer be mine. I shall turn my back on this plate and these cloths, the candles, the silverware. I shall take my leave of it all. I have no husband. I have no child. I, Amelia van Mielen, am once more alone. With these pages I finish my story.’

Helen
closed the rose-covered folder.

I
have no husband.

He
had been hushed and pale, his voice tight with rage, standing at the kitchen table. ‘That smarmy physicist,’ he’d said.

And
Helen, sunk onto a chair, her guts twisting with misery.

‘How
often? Where? In this house – ’

‘No,’
she said. ‘Not here.’

‘His
place? Or hotels, perhaps? How sordid.’ He stared at her, as if at a stranger. ‘How did you become such a person?’

He
appeared to be wanting an answer. She shook her head, staring at the table.

‘I
suppose you’ll say I’m to blame – ’

‘No,’
she said.

‘Good.
Because I’m not. It was your choice. Was it his cute dog? Is that what I’m lacking?’

‘Chad,
please…’

‘Please
what?’

She
raised her eyes to his.

His
gaze was fiery. ‘At the risk of sounding like a clergyman,’ he said, ‘I must remind you, we made vows. In church. To love, honour, to renounce all others… Didn’t we?’

Again,
waiting for an answer. She nodded.

‘So,
there is nowhere to go from here. Is there?’

‘Chad
– ’

‘Is
there?’ he repeated, his voice loud.

‘If
you say so,’ she murmured.

‘I
do say so.’

After
that, there had been no more words. Just sounds, coat buttoned up, briefcase gathered up, front door slamming, car revving, fading away.

And
now here she sat, in the debris, with the dishes of a burnt Sunday roast cooling around her.

Tazer sat in the back of the car, whimpering. Berenice surveyed the empty, rain-soaked beach. She dialled Mary’s number again, left another message.

‘Not
a soul here. I saw a kid, a lad, dragging a piece of driftwood, but he took one look at me and legged it. The girl’s here, and her dad, I reckon. I need back-up. Ring me – ’

The
sound of a car. A sleek, black sports car appeared at her side. A woman got out of it, her tailored raincoat flapping in the wind.

Berenice
wound down her window.

‘Dr
Merletti - ?’

‘I
thought you might need a hand,’ she said.

Lisa held the watch in her hand. The dog had gone away. The torchlight was fading as the batteries began to die.

Her
father was digging in the mud, scrabbling through the puddles with his bare hands, while the sea lapped under the brick wall. The tide must be coming in again, Lisa thought.

She
wondered how high it would come up this time.

Clem
was murmuring… ‘if the other stuff was there, then they’d be there too…’ He dug deeper, found something, pulled at it. A ragged piece of something… leather. ‘This is it,’ he said. ‘Well done, girl. Of course he’d have put it with his other stuff. Under his bench… I should have dug here before.’ He grabbed the torch, shone it at the square of leather in his hand. ‘The deeds,’ he said. ‘The deeds to the house. That’s why everyone came here. Moffatt knew they were here, but he didn’t know about the tunnel, did he? Only I know this place.’ His voice was raised, jubilant. ‘They can’t take it away from me now, can they?’ He slipped one finger inside the folder. Pieces of rotten leather fell into the mud. ‘The deeds…’ he was murmuring. He pulled out a scrap of paper, a fragment, held between finger and thumb. ‘They’ve… but…’ He opened the folder and peered into it, shining the torch towards it. ‘But…’

‘Dad…
the sea…’

The
torch fell from his hand. She picked it up. He was holding the folder open, shaking out tiny pieces of paper. They scattered like leaves on to the wet ground.

He
stared at them. ‘They can’t take it away from me. I fought them for this…’

‘Dad
– we’ve got to get out of here.’

He
shook his head.

‘Dad
– even if you’ve killed – ’

His
face was shadowed in the dim light. ‘I had to,’ he said. ‘He weren’t expecting it, see. Fist into his face, he were gone then. And then up there…’ He jerked his head in the direction of the tower above them. ‘They fall,’ he said. ‘You watch them. Tip them over the edge, them bricks at the top. At first they look like a man, a big heavy lump of human being. But then, falling, they get smaller and smaller. And then there’s the splash, long time after. They’re just a black speck after that. Just the sea and the rocks. You have to get the tide right…’

He
fell silent.

Lisa
clutched the watch in her hand. She sat, dry-eyed with despair. She watched the scraps of paper floating in the rising water, and wondered what it felt like to drown.

‘I was at home, you see, picking dog hairs off my sofa…’ Elizabeth was sitting in the passenger seat of Berenice’s car. ‘And I thought, that poor girl. And here’s me, her closest relative after her god-awful father.’

‘What
made you come here?’ Berenice watched the rain through the misted-up windscreen.

‘I
don’t know. I was just driving around wondering what to do, and I saw your car, and I thought… I don’t know what I thought. When I saw your car, well, I thought that was odd. I thought you’d have back-up, you know, a whole police force, a team…’

‘It’s
complicated,’ Berenice said.

‘Being
an outsider?’ Elizabeth said.

Berenice
nodded.

There
were voices, shouts. Berenice opened the car door. ‘It’s OK,’ she said to Elizabeth. ‘Here’s the cavalry. And he’s still got his driftwood with him.’

Finn
was walking towards the car. Next to him, walked Tobias. ‘I brought him, Miss. I made him come. I said, Lise is there and she needs you.’

Berenice
got out of her car. ‘It’s kind of you – but this is dangerous. You have to understand. The man is armed. I’m waiting for my team to arrive – ’

Tazer
jumped out of the car, and ran down to the tower, to the old wooden door. She barked and growled and jumped at the door.

Tobias
turned to Berenice. ‘I don’t think there’s time to wait any more.’ He began to walk, stride across the stones, towards the tower.

‘Stop
– ’ Berenice called after him. ‘I can’t have this – what if he gets shot – what if – ’

Finn
put up his hand to silence her. ‘Ain’t no one going to sit on the sidelines no more, Miss.’

Barking. Loud barking. ‘Taze,’ Lisa said. She stumbled to her feet. ‘Tayza,’ she began to shout.

‘What
- ?’ Clem was on his feet too.

‘We’re
here,’ Lisa was shouting.

‘Shut
it, girl – ’

‘Tayze
– ’ Clem’s hand was clamped across her mouth.

Lisa
struggled in his grip. He kicked the torch and the light died.

‘I
won’t let them take it away,’ Clem was saying. ‘Not now. No one’s going to take what’s mine…’

A
crash. Shouting, footsteps. A rattling of the heavy door. The beam wedged fast across it, the bench alongside.

Another
crash. The tearing of rotten wood, as the door was beaten down. In the shaft of pale light, a pair of hands appeared, large hands. A blond head bent down, and through the gap that had appeared in the wood, the hands went to the beam. Slowly, they lifted it away from the door.

‘Tobias,’
Lisa breathed. Clem’s grip loosened as he stared too.

Tobias
stood, holding the beam. The workbench was still in the doorway. He put the beam down, leaning it against the wall. Then he put his weight against the bench and pushed.

A
moment of stillness. Then chaos. Shouting, barking, seawater, Tobias’s voice, ‘Run, run for it – ’

But
Lisa was still trapped in her father’s grip, and even though Tazer was growling at her feet, splashing through the waves, she couldn’t move.

Clem
began to walk, holding Lisa in front of him. He moved slowly, through the doorway, emerging blinking into the rain, one arm still locked round his daughter’s neck, the other holding his pistol.

Lisa
was blue-lipped and shivering.

Tobias
stared. Finn stared.

Berenice
too, was staring. What she saw was the gun, levelled, aiming at them all.

Clem
spoke. ‘Ain’t no one going to beat me this time. Me and my kid, we’re going – ’

‘No,
you’re not.’ It was Elizabeth. She stepped forward and faced him. ‘You’re going to let Lisa go,’ she said.

Clem
shook his head. ‘You of all people…’

‘My
name is nothing to do with it – ’

‘I
found them, bitch. I found them papers… buried there… If I can’t have that house, ain’t no one else going to have it.’

‘It’s
over, Clem.’

Then,
two things happened. The first was that Tobias lunged at Clem. The second, was that Clem fired.

A
shot, two shots.

A
flash of pale coat, then searing red.

Rain,
blood, screaming, barking.

Berenice
saw the pistol arcing through the air. It landed at her feet. She saw Clem, on the ground, pinned there by Tobias. Finn, holding Lisa, who seemed uninjured. Elizabeth, lying on her side, bleeding, panting, empty-eyed. And through the rain, flashing blue lights, sirens. The slam of car doors, people shouting, uniforms, stretchers, blankets, oxygen. Clem, handcuffed, bundled into a van.

The
tower loomed, black against the stormy sky. At its feet the sea crashed across the rocks.

Chapter Thirty

‘Is
she still in hospital, the kid?’ Berenice looked up as Mary came into her office.

Mary
nodded. ‘They’re keeping her in overnight. Shock, mostly. She seems OK.’ She put two paper cups down on Berenice’s desk.

‘And
Elizabeth?’

‘It
could have been much worse, the medics are saying. One bullet missed, the other grazed her ribs. She’ll be fine.’

‘Thanks
to Tobias.’

Mary
nodded.

‘Not
thanks to me.’ Berenice gazed at the darkness outside, the flood lights of the car park. ‘No way they’ll let me keep my job. Not even traffic offences.’

‘I
wouldn’t be too sure.’ Mary sat down.

‘What
about Clem. Is he talking?’ Berenice picked up her coffee.

Mary
shrugged. ‘Not much. Stuff about destiny and flood and tunnels, and the deeds to the house. They want you down there.’

‘Me?
But I’m – I mean… where’s the Chief?’

‘Stuart?
Oh, Ashford I think.’

Berenice
stared at her. Then smiled. She got to her feet. ‘Thanks for picking up the call.’

‘Duty,
Boss.’

‘How
was the hen night?’

Mary
sighed.

‘Disappointing?’

‘I just was expecting something a bit less…’

‘Oh.
You mean it was all – ’

‘Yes.
Pink. Loud. Tinsel. Whistles. Too much Tequila…’

‘Oh
dear.’

‘Nice
that she’s happy though.’

The night gave way to dawn. Clem refused to speak. Reminded of the charges against him, the killing of three men, wounding with intent, possession of firearms, kidnap, he stared straight ahead of him. From time to time he shook his head, or murmured something. Once he fixed his gaze on Berenice and said, ‘My little girl…? She’s OK?’

‘Yes,
Berenice replied. ‘She’s fine.’

He
nodded, and returned to silence.