The Cipher Garden (25 page)

Daniel stood by the window, listening to the drumbeat of rain on the roof of the cottage. Puddles had formed on the stone slabs, flowers leaned under the weight of water, clouds merged into a vast grey tarpaulin. Hard to believe that the sodden cipher garden had ever possessed a secret meaning. A foul-tempered wind was howling through the valley, making the trees dance to its angry tune. The tarn looked swollen, the summit of the fell was wrapped in mist. He thought about Alice Quiller and John, about Oliver Cox and Bel Jenner. Some passions defied all wisdom, sometimes devotion justified any sin.

‘I should have kept my nose out.’

‘You said it, darling.’ Miranda ran her fingertips down his cheek. ‘Never mind. It’ll make a marvellous story.’

He flinched, as if at a wasp sting. ‘You’re not going to write about what happened?’

‘Why not? I may have changed my mind about tracing my birth mother, but everything is copy. Grist to the mill.’

‘You can’t, it’s too close. Too personal.’

‘Like telling our bedroom secrets?’ She laughed. ‘If you could only see your face! Come on, darling, lighten up.’

‘Sam got his just deserts,’ Marc said.

Rain had streaked Sam Howe’s face as he stared down at his half-brother’s body. Impossible for Hannah to imagine what was running through his mind. No need to make sure Oliver was dead; the fork buried in his windpipe left no room for doubt. She huddled on the ground, breath knocked out of her, body throbbing with pain. Not making a sound, not daring to move. Would she be next?

Sam spat on the ground and turned on his heel. Hannah closed her eyes, heard Sam pounding down the path. The van door banged, the engine growled, tyres screeched.

Scarcely the perfect getaway. Sam always drove too fast, it turned out that he was famous for it. Half a mile down a lane greasy from the downpour, he’d skidded round a bend at sixty and crashed into an oncoming tractor. The farmhand escaped with shock and whiplash, but Sam hadn’t bothered with his seatbelt. He was hurled through the windshield, smack into the oncoming cab. Dead on arrival at A&E.

‘Saved the need for a trial, I guess.’

‘And a lot of embarrassing questions.’

Hannah rubbed her side. It still ached, but the yellow bruise from Sam’s fork was fading. Banishing the nightmare vision of Oliver’s lifeblood spilling on to the ground, would take longer.

‘Embarrassing questions are the last thing on my mind.’

Interviewing Bel had been a nightmare of embarrassment. And heart-rending pity. In the face of disaster, the woman had acquired a weird dignity. She still dressed as if for a fashion show, the make-up was applied with the old finesse. She’d closed the restaurant –
until further notice
– but it remained spick and span. She spoke distantly, yet readily, like an emotional soulmate of Miss Havisham. Perhaps she’d persuaded herself she was going to wake up soon to find Oliver cooking dinner next door in the kitchen.

‘As soon as I told Warren I was expecting a baby, he dumped me. He’d kept pestering me to go out with him, but no way could you ever get him to shoulder responsibility. He wasn’t a savage man, Mr Kind, not a wife beater or a fighting drunk. But I never met anyone more selfish. Or more ruthless when it came to taking pleasure.’

‘And then he started going out with your best friend.’

‘Rubbing salt in the wound, yes.’

‘Did she know you were pregnant?’

‘God, no. I truly believe she was tormented by guilt simply because he’d dumped me for her. For a while, she and I kept our distance. Even when Warren gave her the push, and the two of us made up, I didn’t tell her about the baby for a long time. To tell you the truth, I felt so alone.’

‘You kept the pregnancy secret?’

‘Until I was so far gone that I had no choice but to tell my mother. I wanted to have an abortion, I hated the very thought of giving birth to Warren’s child. But Mum wouldn’t hear of it. She gave out that I’d been taken ill and whisked me away to an aunt in Hexham. That’s where I had the baby.’

‘And you gave him up for adoption.’

‘I told Warren our baby was born dead.’ She flinched,
but did not lose her spooky calm. One day reality would hit her. Hannah didn’t want to be around when it happened.

‘It was the only solution. Mum said she wouldn’t allow me to ruin my life because of one mistake.’

‘When did you tell Roz?’

‘After I came back from Hexham. One night when we were listening to music in my bedroom I broke down in floods of tears and it all came out. I made her swear that she’d never tell a soul. I wanted to airbrush the whole horrid episode out of my mind. Make believe it never happened.’

Hannah nodded. There was nothing she could say.

‘I swore to myself I’d never think about the child again.’ Bel lifted her chin. ‘And you know what, Chief Inspector? I never did.’

Roz hadn’t wanted to talk. She blamed herself for spilling the beans to Kirsty, kept saying that if she’d held her tongue, the girl would be alive to this day. She only agreed to an interview when she found Bel was willing for her to tell the story.

‘When did you realise Oliver was Bel’s son?’ Hannah asked.

‘It didn’t click at first, but one night, I was eating on my own in the restaurant. Chris had gone missing, I didn’t care to cook for one. The Howes were celebrating their wedding anniversary. Oliver came out from the kitchen to serve and for an instant I saw him framed in between Warren and Sam and saw a resemblance. It was subtle, I’d never noticed it before, but seeing them together set off like a lightning bolt in my mind. I wondered if the similarities might be coincidence. Oliver didn’t look much
like Bel – but then, there’s something about the shape of the nose. And he had her gentleness, too, poor man.’

‘He was the right age to be the lost boy.’

‘And he’d turned up in Old Sawrey out of the blue. The Lakes attracts more than its fair share of drifters, and I didn’t want to let my imagination carry me away. So I made it my business to talk to him the next day while Bel was out visiting the wholesaler. It didn’t take me long to wheedle out that he was adopted. I asked outright if he was Bel’s son. At first he lied, but his shock was a dead giveaway. In the end he admitted that he’d become obsessed with finding his parents. He believed it would give a meaning to his life. It hadn’t been difficult to trace Bel. What he hadn’t reckoned for was that the two of them would become besotted with each other.’

‘He admitted that?’

‘You only had to see them together to know. I warned him he was playing with fire, that it would be a kindness to tell her the truth. She might lose a boyfriend, but she’d gain a son.’

‘And he refused?’

‘He begged me to let them be. And he can be very persuasive.’ Roz tipped her head to one side, a faraway look in her eyes.
‘Right now, she needs me as a lover. Not as a reminder of the worst time in her life.’

‘So you promised to keep quiet?’

‘Whatever my other faults,’ she said dryly, ‘I have at least proved I’m good at keeping confidences. Whether that’s been for the best in the long run – different story.’

‘You knew she was his mother and yet…’

‘Listen, Bel had been wretched for a long time. Yes, she was fond of Tom and she nursed him selflessly during his illness. But no way was it a grand passion; she settled for
comfort and security when she married him. I’d never seen her so happy, not since her first date with that bastard Warren Howe. Meanwhile Warren was sniffing round her again. He’d tired of Gail and was looking out for fresh fields to conquer. I doubt if he ever fancied anyone more than Bel, not even Tina. She knows how to satisfy a man, I think. My nightmare was that if she lost Oliver, in desperation she’d turn to Warren, despite what he’d done to her all those years ago.’

‘You really didn’t care for Warren, did you?’

‘I hated him, is that blunt enough for you?’ Her smile was icy.

‘You were explaining why you didn’t tell Bel that she was sleeping with her own son.’

‘I’m no guardian of morals, Detective Chief Inspector. Pragmatism is the best most of us can hope for. Oliver was very different from Warren. Sensitive and passionate. He would look after Bel, I was confident of that. I’d stolen one lover from her and that was one too many. If I’d said something to her, warned her off – I’d have ruined two lives. What would you have done?’

Hannah didn’t speak.

‘As the years passed, it all worked out to perfection. Warren was dead and gone, he’d never bother Bel again. She and Oliver were blissfully happy.’

‘But he was a murderer.’

‘I’ll believe to my dying day that he didn’t come to our cottage intending to kill his own father.’

‘Even so.’

Roz glared. ‘Frankly, your colleagues on the original investigation didn’t have a clue, so I hope you don’t blame me for not working out the truth. As far as I was concerned, Chris was back where he belonged and our
marriage was stronger than before. Everything in the garden was lovely.’

‘Even the prettiest gardens turn bleak in time.’

Roz closed her eyes. ‘If only Kirsty hadn’t fallen for Oliver. Her half-brother. I did my utmost to discourage her, but she took no notice.’

‘Because you were Bel’s buddy.’

‘Too old to understand about young love.’ A single tear trickled down her cheek. ‘It was madness. How could she have thought me capable of destroying the happiness of my dearest friend? But there was no convincing her. She was a Howe, and nobody is more determined than the Howes, once they set their mind to something. She refused to give Oliver up. The more he tried to keep her at arm’s length, the more she wanted him. Worse, much worse, she told me how she hated Bel, how she fantasised about killing her. A woman who had shown her nothing but kindness. I always believed Kirsty would never hurt a fly, but she was losing the plot. I was terrified of what she might do.’

‘So you told her the truth?’

‘It was a mistake, I panicked, but I couldn’t imagine how else to stop her in her tracks. Their affair could never be.’

She blew her nose loudly. A string of reassuring platitudes trailed through Hannah’s head. Stuff you might read in the magazine that Miranda wrote for. It wasn’t your doing, she was responsible for her own actions. You did your best, it was an impossible situation.

Empty, empty, empty words.

‘I suppose you’re going to tell me I shouldn’t have interfered,’ Daniel said.

‘I’m not that ungracious,’ Hannah said.

For a minute, neither of them spoke. They’d arranged to
meet in a tea shop on the Bowness road and were surrounded by end-of-season trippers sheltering from the cloudburst. The windows were steamed up, the air had a tang of China tea and carrot cake. A plump and chatty waitress scurried from table to table, getting orders wrong and explaining it was her first day in a new job. She looked the same age as Kirsty Howe.

‘I know. Sorry.’

A sip of Darjeeling seemed to revive her. ‘Better look on the bright side, huh? The ACC’s a happy bunny this week. Suddenly my team’s clear-up statistics look wonderful. She practically put her tongue in my mouth yesterday. She’s been invited to a garden party at Buckingham Palace and some Home Office apparatchik is quoting her management methods as a model for efficient police leadership. The powers that be are thrilled because we’ve avoided the hassle and expense of two prosecutions. I suppose I ought to be thanking you on behalf of the
hard-pressed
taxpayer.’

‘Miranda tells me that Bel Jenner has put the restaurant on the market. What about Tina Howe?’

‘I did her an injustice. I thought she killed her husband.’

‘It’s the usual solution.’

‘Not this time. She’s a strong woman, but she’ll need to be made of titanium to survive losing both her kids. Time for her to lean on Peter Flint, rather than the other way round.’

‘At least Roz has Chris. Did you find out why he left home before the murder?’

‘Long story. Let’s not go there.’

‘Was it Chris who tipped you off about Tina in the first place?’

‘God, no. That was Peter Flint’s ex-wife. A sad alcoholic with a grudge against the Howes. She sent them hate mail,
but we don’t have the evidence to prosecute. Until her liver packs up, she can keep downing the gin and gloating over her enemies’ fate.’

‘You look shattered.’

‘You’re so good for my morale,’ she said, with a glimmer of a smile. ‘Don’t let it trouble your conscience, it isn’t your fault. Things have been tough lately. The moon’s in the wrong quarter or something.’

He savoured the smoky flavour of Lapsang Souchong. ‘Want to talk about it?’

‘Not really.’

‘Up to you.’

She breathed out, as if arriving at a decision. ‘Since you ask, I had a miscarriage. I’d only just found out I was pregnant.’

‘Oh God, Hannah, I’m so sorry.’ Instinctively, he reached across the table and put his hand on hers.

‘I feel like a roulette ball. Spinning around randomly, not in control of my own destiny.’

‘I guess that goes for all of us.’

‘Yes, compared to Tina or Bel Jenner, I should count my blessings. We weren’t planning a baby and I wasn’t sure I was ready for motherhood. There’s no escape from it, ask Bel. You should have seen Marc’s face when I told him he was going to become a father. He’d sooner swallow tin tacks than admit it, but I’m sure he sees…what’s happened …as a narrow escape.’

‘You’re too hard on him.’

‘You think so?’ She removed her hand. ‘I mustn’t be disloyal. Yesterday he booked us a fortnight in Paphos. Sam didn’t do me any permanent damage and I don’t like taking sick leave. The idea is I catch up on my annual leave and get my head sorted out sitting by the pool. As if we
hadn’t had enough of the sun. I’ve decided I rather like drizzle after all. Not that I’m complaining, Marc’s doing his best. So why I’m loading all this on you when we hardly know each other, Christ knows. I’m not sure I can even believe I’m doing it.’

‘Any time.’

‘No, you’ve had plenty to contend with yourself. You don’t deserve any more grief.’