The Merchant's House (19 page)

Neil spoke to the boy. ‘Has the sergeant explained about the damage those metal detectors can do?’ Darren, crestfallen, nodded and shuffled his feet. ‘Tell you what. Come round here tomorrow morning and I’ll let you do a bit of digging.’ Darren nodded again, eagerly this time. ‘You’ll have to do exactly as you’re told, mind. And bring that infernal machine of yours and you can go through the spoil heaps, see if there’s any coins we’ve missed. Okay?’ Darren’s eyes shone. Just wait till he told his mates. ‘Off you go now. See you tomorrow. It’s hard work, mind.’

Darren grinned widely and ran off before Neil could change his mind.

‘Thanks, Neil. Nice bit of community service you’ve arranged there.’

‘Come off it, Wes. We could do with a few extra pairs of hands, you know that. Time’s short. I got to the museum this afternoon after I’d seen you. Turned up quite a lot of information. They even had the original accounts from when the place was built – three shillings for timber and all that sort of thing. And the records of the shop accounts. It’s fascinating if you’ve got time to go through it all, which you probably won’t have. There’s even more stuff at that museum so I’m going back there tomorrow. The Banizeds were what you’d call comfortably off. They sent ships out to Newfoundland in the spring, brought back cargoes of salted fish and traded it for wine and luxury goods in Europe – that’s on top of the cloth trade, of course. They can’t have been short of a bob or two. One interesting thing – in 1623 they replaced the staircase and used a ship’s mast for the centre post. It’s all down in the accounts. An early example of recycling. And the cellar was flagged in 1624 so our bodies probably predate that.’

‘You’re going to use all this in the exhibition?’

‘You bet your life I am. Pity we don’t know who the bodies belong to.’

‘Keep digging and you might find out. Jennet’s a possible. Looks as if the ring was buried with her.’

‘Trouble is, Wes, we might never know.’

‘I’d better be off. Got a lot to catch up on.’

Wesley walked off slowly, reluctantly, heading for home. Pam had put the card proclaiming tomorrow’s clinic appointment in pride of place on the mantelpiece. He hoped, for her sake, that nothing would prevent him from keeping it. He walked up the hilly streets wondering what mood she would be in when he got home.

I am drawn to Jennet’s chamber every night. I tell my wife I am at work in the warehouse. How easily the lie doth come to my lips. My lust hath made me a deceiver but I cannot give up what I must have. I plunge into Jennet’s fair body each night as a man doth plunge a burning hand into cool water. To have her is to cool for a time the burnings of my desire. But my appetite doth increase with consumption.

Elizabeth is glad that I have ceased my importunings as she feels most unwell. I am unable to help myself. I cease even to pray for the Lord’s forgiveness.

Extract from the journal of John Banized,
10 June 1623

In Steve Carstairs’s wildest sexual fantasies, he was surrounded by a bevy of nubile young models, only too pleased to do his bidding. He could hardly believe his luck when he sat in the office of Tradmouth Models on a rainy Thursday morning waiting to interview the last of Karen Giordino’s colleagues. It hadn’t been like this when he’d been on the beat. CID got all the good jobs.

The model, a willowy blonde named Mimi, crossed and uncrossed her remarkable legs as Steve tried not to stare. He asked her the questions on the list, the same questions as he had asked the others.

‘Did you know Sharon Carteret well?’

‘Well as anybody, I suppose. She wasn’t the sort of girl who mixed, if you know what I mean. She was very quiet.’

Steve nodded. ‘Can you tell me anything about her? Did she talk about a boyfriend, for instance?’

‘She never mentioned one. She didn’t talk much about her private life. There are some of the girls round here don’t talk about anything else, but Sharon… well, she was just the girl on the desk, part of the furniture. She was a bit, you know, mousey. It’s Phil we come here to see, after all. Nobody took much notice of Sharon.’

‘Were you there when Sharon found Karen Giordino’s photographs?’

‘The ones there was so much fuss about? Yeah. I’d just called in and Sharon was twittering on about not knowing what to do with these bloody photos. I said to keep them and give them back when Karen came in next. She put them in her bag and said she might drop them off at Karen’s if she got the chance.’

‘You don’t know if she did call at Karen’s?’

‘No. Karen was off to France soon after. Never heard any more about it.’

Mimi recrossed her legs and a shiver went down Steve’s spine.

‘What about when Sharon first started here? Did she tell anyone about herself then? Was there anyone she did confide in?’

‘No. I told you. She kept herself to herself. There was one girl who used to use this agency – she’s moved now, gone to London – she used to tease Sharon when she first started.’

‘Tease her? What about?’

‘About her weight. She was a bit plump when she first started here.’

‘How did Sharon react?’

‘She took no notice – never said anything. She did lose weight, though, so perhaps it might have upset her. I don’t know. You could never tell with her.’

Steve looked at his list. He could think of no more questions – except one. ‘If you’re not doing anything tonight, do you fancy a drink?’

Mimi smiled and surreptitiously pulled up her skirt to reveal even more of her alarmingly long legs.

‘Nice carpet,’ whispered Wesley, trying to take Pam’s mind off things. She smiled weakly.

A nurse strolled towards them, smiling. She wore a crisp blue uniform of the type nowadays only seen in Carry On films and private hospitals, the design having been superseded in NHS establishments by something more practical.

She bent over and spoke confidentially in Wesley’s ear. ‘Have you provided a sample for us, Mr Peterson?’

Wesley, recalling how he had recently experienced one of the most embarrassing moments of his life, swallowed hard and nodded. The nurse went away.

The couple sat in silence, not knowing what to say. The blonde on the reception desk asked if they’d like another coffee. They both said yes. At least it would give them something to do with their hands while they were waiting to see Dr Downey. It was the waiting that was the worst part.

After what seemed to Wesley like an age, the nurse reappeared and led them through carpeted corridors to Dr Downey’s office.

There was money in private medicine, thought Wesley, as his eyes took in his surroundings: Dr Downey’s office was worthy of housing the chief constable himself. The desk was dark and vast, expensively inset with tooled leather. The leather chairs moulded themselves to the body as one sat looking at the tasteful watercolours on the soft green walls – all originals. Pam found herself wishing that school staffrooms were as luxuriously appointed.

Dr Downey shook hands, smiling in welcome. He could afford his affability.

‘Mr Peterson.’ He turned to Wesley, still smiling. ‘I’ve had one of my colleagues look at your sample under the microscope and I’m pleased to tell you that everything appears to be normal. We do have to investigate the possibility of the male partner’s infertility as well, you understand. If the sperm count is low, we have a problem.’

Wesley nodded and wished that the medical profession
wouldn’t keep underestimating their patients’ ability to read medical textbooks. Pam had probably read the lot and passed the salient information on to him. He just wanted to know the test results. ‘So where do we go from here, Doctor? What’s the next step?’ He thought he’d better stop Dr Downey in his tracks before he went on to explain about the birds and the bees. ‘Will you want to perform a laparoscopy?’

Dr Downey, who had been about to launch into an explanation of the fertilisation of the human egg, sat back in his deep leather swivel chair and looked at Wesley. Perhaps he had underestimated the man. ‘Yes. That’s the next step. I usually like my ladies to stay in overnight, Mrs Peterson. We’ll do our best to make you comfortable so you shouldn’t find it too traumatic’ He smiled reassuringly. ‘Do you know about the procedure and what we’ll be looking for?’

‘She reads about nothing else.’

Pam, self-conscious, gave her husband a look that said shut up and don’t embarrass me.

‘Let me assure you, Pamela – may I call you Pamela? – that we’ll do our very best here at the Morbay Clinic to sort out any problems you may have. Many common conditions are easy to treat and we do have a full range of services here. You’re in the best hands.’ He smiled charmingly.

Wesley didn’t see the smile, or Pamela’s eyes shining hopefully. He saw only a diminishing bank account.

As they left the clinic Pam linked her arm through Wesley’s. ‘I feel much better after talking to him,’ she said. ‘I might even come out for a drink tonight if I’ve not got too much preparation to do for school. Neil’ll think I’m avoiding him.’

Wesley kissed her cheek absent-mindedly. He knew he should be grateful to Dr Downey, even though he didn’t like the man.

The harassed young woman at the benefit office had pointed out to PC Johnson that Christopher was a popular name and it was impossible to trace anything if he didn’t provide a surname; besides, there was no record of anyone at the address given claiming benefit. It would be on the computer,
and the computer never lied. Johnson nodded, thanked her and left. Who was he to argue with a computer?

Gerry Heffernan took the news philosophically. Chris could be anywhere. But the child? That added a new dimension to the investigation. Somewhere along the way either Sharon or Chris had acquired a child; not a baby but a young child. And according to the neighbour the child looked like Chris. The inspector sighed; in these days of unconventional families, the child could easily be Chris’s from a past relationship. There was one advantage: a man with a child should be easier to track down than a man on his own. Heffernan comforted himself with this thought.

Sharon’s family too seemed conspicuously absent from the scene. Nobody at work knew anything about the secretary’s background, although Phil, the boss, thought she’d mentioned once that she was an only child, that her parents were dead and that she’d been brought up by her grandmother. Nobody knew about her friends either; perhaps she hadn’t any. Heffernan felt a wave of sadness that someone so young should pass from this earthly existence so unmourned. It was almost as though the dead girl had no life or personality of her own.

His thoughts were disturbed by a knock on the door. Wesley had returned.

‘Come in, Wes. How did it go?’

He saw that the sergeant was smiling.

Rachel felt sorry for the female staff of the Devonshire District Building Society. They had to wear a uniform, whereas she had earned the right to abandon hers when she joined the CID.

Most of the staff had changed since Sharon worked there, but she found two women who remembered her.

The first recalled her but had had little to do with her, but the second, a middle-aged lady named Dot who sported gigantic earrings and lethal stiletto heels, remembered her well. She had sat beside her in the back office.

‘She was a nice girl. Quiet but always ready for a laugh, if you know what I mean.’ Rachel sensed there’d be no shutting Dot up once she got going. ‘She had this boyfriend,
thought the world of him. I think he was a bit of a Svengali. She’d do whatever he wanted – poor girl. She never had a family. Maybe that’s why she clung to him. Who’s to say? I tried to tell her but they won’t be told, will they? I mean, I know that men aren’t worth it and I told her to think more of herself, but would she listen? Would she heck.’

Rachel nodded sympathetically. ‘Can you tell me anything about the boyfriend? Or about any other friends or family she might have mentioned?’ She sensed she would have to work hard to keep Dot on the right track.

‘Well, his name was Chris, I remember that much. I never saw him but she talked about him a lot. It was obvious she was smitten. She said he had money worries but she never said what he did for a living.’

‘So he was in debt, do you think?’

‘That’s what money worries usually means. You don’t worry if you have too much of it, do you? I remember her saying she’d gone with him to the races at Newton Abbot. Maybe he gambled. But that’s just a guess.’

‘Did she have any particular friends that you know of?’

Dot pursed her lips, biting back her disapproval. ‘Gave them all up, didn’t she. Chris didn’t like her having her own friends. She said as much. Poor girl.’

‘What about when she left? What happened? Did she say why she was leaving?’

‘No. She didn’t give a reason – just handed in her notice.’

‘She never confided in you?’

‘No. But I had my suspicions.’

‘Suspicions? What about?’

‘When you see a girl throwing up in the loo in the mornings and putting on weight you don’t have to be in the CID to put two and two together.’ She looked at Rachel and winked.

‘You mean she was pregnant?’