Indian Summer (4 page)

Tom downed his beer and let the frustration pour from his companion. Army wives had a tough time when their men went to war, but they found it even tougher to understand why it took so long to resume a loving, harmonious relationship when they returned. Had that problem ended in the murder of Keane? And his family?

Gripping the can tightly and staring into the distance, Priest eventually said, ‘Flip Keane was a bloody good soldier, but the poor sod couldn't handle women. I've not met a more selfish bitch than Starr, and you come across a few in this game. Flip and her were an item a few years back and she had a kid while he was in Iraq.'

‘Keane's?'

‘So she reckoned. He'd never wanted to set up home with her, so if it
was
his it wasn't meant to happen. Out in Iraq he took up with a nurse. Real serious, that was.'

‘Was she called Brenda?'

Frank managed a dry chuckle. ‘Tattoos on his arse? Should've been on his dick, he was that gone on her.'

‘Yet he married Starr.'

‘No, mate,
Starr
married
him
. Had the whole bloody family working on it. Two truckie brothers saw to him one night, and her mother . . . Christ, send her out there and she'd sort even Bin Laden! He didn't have a hope in hell.'

‘I get the picture,' said Tom. ‘In addition he was getting grief from his company commander, and his career was in danger of going down the drain.'

Priest's dark eyes bored into Tom's. ‘It was in the bloody balance, mate. Your blokes almost did for him in Iraq.'

‘Say again.'

‘That “friendly fire” balls-up.'

‘Tell me about it,' invited Tom, sensing an important revelation.

‘Look up your records. It'll be in there, including the withdrawal of the charge the following day. The target
was
a bloody raghead. But something like that doesn't go away. Flip was real strung out over it for that last month of the tour. Had no ammo left to fight with when that woman waggled the kid at him outside his parents' house, and shouted obscenities while her brothers made threatening gestures. Modern day shotgun wedding, it was. Talk about kicking a man when he's down!'

‘So Brenda was out of his life?'

Priest nodded. ‘He reckoned he wasn't good enough for her. Shows how low he was over that period. Should've made sergeant by now, but that's all on his record.' He crushed the beer can with his hand. ‘He'll never make sergeant now, thanks to some pervert.' He turned haunted eyes to Tom once more. ‘What're you doing about getting who did for him?'

‘We're talking to people like you who knew him, garnering evidence that'll eventually point us in the right direction,' Tom told him quietly. ‘There's another kid – a girl of eight months – so the marriage was working out, was it?'

‘They must have been having sex; doesn't mean the marriage was working. Just satisfying basic needs. Flip loved those kids. Always gassing about them.' He appeared lost in thought for a moment or two. ‘Back at the start of the year Starr starts nagging him to quit the Army. In spite of what happened, it was Flip's whole life. Only thing he wanted to do. So that bitch set about getting what
she
wanted. You know the drill. Headache most nights, dried-up corned beef and limp lettuce day after day, dirty washing piling up. When it came to soiled nappies being dumped on his kit, he had a chat with Captain Steele, who called the Welfare people. We were on standby for Afghanistan and the Company Commander wanted the situation sorted.'

‘Would that be
Ben
Steele? Guy who got involved in the abduction of Major Kington, Defence Liaison Officer, a coupla years ago?'

‘The same. Know him?'

‘Oh,
yes
,' said Tom, recalling the young subaltern Max had dubbed the military Miss Marple.

‘He defended our action in Iraq. Backed Flip to the hilt. He's all right. The guys really rate him.'

‘And Steele sorted Starr's attempts to get Keane out of khaki?'

‘Welfare did. They arranged for the kids to go two days a week to a crèche in town run by several Brit women, giving Starr some time to herself, and Flip agreed she could take them to her mother's, all expenses paid, while he was in Afghanistan. He also said he would give some thought to leaving the Army when he got back.' Priest grimaced. ‘Between you and me, I think he was uptight about going into action again, and if it turned out he couldn't hack it any more he'd be better off getting out.'

‘And did he?'

‘Did he what?'

‘Hack it.'

‘Yes, mate. When he got back here he had everything going for him.' He flung the crushed can at his son's bike. ‘He's out of it with a vengeance now. That cow's got what she wanted.'

Connie Bush was talking with the wife of a corporal of the West Wiltshire Regiment, now in Afghanistan. A neat, voluble woman, Sarah Goodwin had insisted on making extra coffee and sandwiches before settling on the settee to tell her visitor all she knew about her neighbours. Childless, she was clearly lonely and seized the opportunity to share an early snack lunch with a young woman eager to hear her titillating account.
SIB
members were plain-clothes detectives. The absence of military uniform and the unwelcome red-topped cap made interviewees more relaxed and confiding. This particular woman certainly chatted as if Connie were a friend who had dropped in for a gossip.

‘He was terribly henpecked, you know. Starr had a voice on her. These walls are too thin at the best of times – you can even hear sounds of an intimate nature, if you get my meaning – but when they had a barney we heard every word she said. Cutting him down to size. I started out feeling sorry for him, but then I had a think about it and changed my mind. I mean, any man who lets himself be treated like that deserves to be.' She took a large bite from her cheese and pickle sandwich, saying through it, ‘Don't you agree?'

Connie just smiled and sipped her coffee, privately labelling her companion a probable doormat. ‘You told Sergeant Maddox that you didn't hear Mrs Keane depart with the children either on Saturday or early this morning, but surely you noticed how quiet it had become. Presumably, she shouted at her kids, too.'

‘I've been out a lot. I can't stand it here without Den.'

I couldn't stand it at any time, thought Connie. Little or no effort had been made to soften the austerity of standard army accommodation with colour or imagination. It was not a home, simply a basic living unit.

‘Are you friendly with Mrs Keane?'

The plate was profferred. ‘Have another sandwich.'

‘I've had enough, thanks. Are you?' Connie persisted.

‘Den said it wouldn't do.'

‘Oh? Why?'

Sarah poured more coffee for them both. ‘A woman like that would take advantage. Start gossiping over the fence, showing too much interest in our private affairs and blabbing about them to all and sundry.' She shook her head. ‘Give her an inch and she'd take a mile, Den said. Before I knew it I'd be asked to babysit, and those kids would be forever in here.' She took another large bite of sandwich. ‘Of course, I said hallo if we came face to face, but I always made an excuse not to stop and chat. Didn't want any unpleasantness. That's not in my nature.'

So you stayed in your little tight shell, thought Connie. ‘How about the other wives? Did they get on with Starr?'

Sarah's plain face screwed into an expression of dislike. ‘She was part of a clique, all of them loud-mouthed and hung around with babies. They had an unpleasant smell, somehow. Babies do that to people, don't they?'

Connie studied this tidy, colourless woman and tried to guess whether that statement indicated her reason for deciding not to have a family, or whether it was a kind of warped consolation for having tried and failed.

‘Who are Starr's particular friends in this clique?'

The other woman got to her feet with a smile. ‘I've something nice in the kitchen. I'll fetch them then we can go on with our chat.' A moment later she returned holding a fancy tin. ‘I made these last night. Didn't know what else to do with myself knowing I wouldn't get to sleep if I went to bed. They're Den's favourites. Have a couple.'

Connie declined the chocolate-covered buns and repeated her question. She heard the reply through a mouthful of cake.

‘They're all as thick as thieves. Do everything together.' She took a gulp of coffee. ‘Starr's never lonely. I mean, she doesn't need anything from me. Not that I'd refuse to help her if she was in trouble. You mustn't think that. But she has plenty of friends who are her kind, who would see she was
OK
. Mind you, soon after Melody was born she was very unhappy. Wanted him to leave the Army. Den told me Flip was uptight about it, but that was before Welfare sorted out the crèche for the kids. Starr calmed down after that, especially when he agreed she could go to her Mum while he was away.' She gave a fey kind of smile. ‘Lovely and quiet here for five months. No banging and clattering; no kids squalling.'

Connie picked up on that news. ‘Mrs Keane went to the
UK
while her husband was in Afghanistan?'

Another bun began to be devoured. ‘Den said it was the only way Flip could stop her persecution. I couldn't repeat to you what I was told she did to make him get out.' She shuddered. ‘How any woman could behave like that I . . .
Apparently
,' she continued with relish, ‘he said he'd consider leaving when he returned at the start of this week. Well, she arrived here ten days ago – I heard doors banging and the kids whining so I knew they were back – and she starts going at him the minute he walked in the door.' She appealed to Connie. ‘Do you feel sorry for him, or not? I was feeling low with Den going off just a few days before, and I admit I did think she should have made a bit of a fuss of him after what he'd been through. But not
her
!'

‘This quarrel you heard on Friday night,' prompted Connie.

Sarah Goodwin's eyes lit with excitement. ‘Oh,
that
, I almost called the Redcaps. I mean, it was much worse than the usual mud-slinging and Starr's screeching. It sounded like furniture being thrown about, and Flip was shouting as much as her. I've never heard him yell like that at her before. Talk about
swearing
! He'd really lost it.'

Crumbs of chocolate bun dropped from her mouth as she warmed to her theme. ‘After a whole lot of thudding and crashing, when I thought someone must be getting hurt, it suddenly went quiet. That frightened me more than the ding-dong. Alone here without Den I just huddled in the duvet and prayed it had stopped.'

‘But you didn't call the
RMP
post on the base.'

‘Den says it's always best not to get involved. We have to live next to them and Starr could make things very unpleasant for me without a husband here to sort it out. I didn't get any sleep, you know, worrying about it,' she offered as if by way of mitigation.

Connie lost her patience with this feeble woman. ‘You have heard that Philip Keane has been murdered, haven't you?'

‘It's all round the base,' she murmured, fiddling with the paper cases from three chocolate buns she had eaten. Then she had a thought and looked up swiftly. ‘No, no, he wasn't killed
then
. I'd never forgive myself if . . . No, I heard them both talking at breakfast time.'

‘Talking, or continuing the row?'

‘Starr always shouts, but he sounded quiet. The kids were crying and I think he was trying to calm them.'

‘Now, this is important, Mrs Goodwin. At what time did you grow aware that the Keanes had all left their house yesterday?'

‘Oh, I can't tell you that. They were there when I was eating my usual bowl of banana and cornflakes.'

‘That was when?' Connie demanded impatiently.

‘Eight thirty. I washed the bowl and coffee-mug – that always brings it home that Den's not here; just
one
of everything – and I went out at nine to spend the day with a friend who was also not keen on all the noise and fuss of the Open Day. I came home after supper with her.' Her brow wrinkled. ‘I
was
surprised that the place next door was in darkness. That small bedroom at the front is the nursery. There's a low light burning all night for the kids.'

‘So the house looked empty?'

‘Well, yes. I got used to it being dark for five months, but they're back now. There should've been lights.'

‘Was their car in the drive?'

‘No . . . no, so she must have taken the kids to friends, mustn't she?' A moment later, ‘Oh, my God, she won't know Flip's been killed.'

Connie got to her feet. ‘That's why we're trying to find her. Thanks for your help. I'd like details of the friend you were with on Saturday.'

Sarah Goodwin stood, cake crumbs dropping from her lap to the carpet. ‘Whatever for?'

‘We need to know where people were between ten and fourteen hundred . . . for elimination purposes.'

‘Elimination from what?'

‘Murder, Mrs Goodwin.'

Tom drove back to his office digesting a significant fact Priest had revealed. He was now eager to check SIB records for the report on a case involving Philip Keane during a tour in Iraq two years ago. It might throw some light on the man's murder. Had Frank Priest lied about Keane's ability to cope with active service? Had the Corporal funked it in Afghanistan, putting his men in danger's way? Would the company sergeant major defend him so solidly if that had been the case? It was essential to interview Keane's platoon before some of them went to the
UK
or to a European destination for their well-deserved rehab leave.

On a huge military base it was impossible for everyone to know everyone else, even those within the same regiment. For a small unit like 26 Section, whose headquarters were on a far boundary, the situation was worse. Because of their general unpopularity Redcaps tended to stay within their own ranks and territory. It was the best plan; a mistake to make close friends they might have to arrest and report to the Garrison Commander one day.