Barbara laughed – a mirthless, scraping sound. Isabel held the phone away from her ear and rolled her eyes at Nathan, who was watching and listening from the other side of the room.
When the sound of laughter died away, Isabel pressed the phone back to her ear.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘You have to ask?’ Barbara replied. ‘You can’t possibly be giving any credence to the idea that your father or I were involved in … what? Murder?’
‘It’s difficult to know what to give credence to when you’ve been kept in the dark for most of your life.’ The searing anger that Isabel had suppressed for so long was beginning to erupt, bubbling slowly to the surface like molten lava. ‘Dad walked out of our lives and we haven’t seen or heard from him since. How do you think that makes me feel, Mum? And why don’t we ever talk about what happened?’
Nathan came over and sat next to her on the sofa. Isabel moved the phone to her right ear so that he could listen in.
‘Ask her,’ he mouthed.
Isabel was struggling to compose a suitable phrase in her head. Why did conversations with her mother always have to be like this? So strained and stilted?
Nathan nodded gently, encouraging her to speak. Her words, when they eventually emerged from her mouth, were a watered-down version of the question she really wanted to ask.
‘Is there something you’re keeping from me, Mum?’
She could hear her mother hyperventilating at the other end of the line. Deep, rasping, uncomfortable breaths.
‘Why do you always refuse to talk about Dad?’ Isabel persisted. ‘I need you to tell me.’
When Barbara spoke, her voice was firm and uncompromising. ‘Trust me,’ she said, ‘there are some things you’re better off not knowing.’
And then she ended the call.
Having kept her secret for forty-two years, it seemed Barbara Corrington intended holding on to it for a while longer. Furious, Isabel stared at her phone and then threw it across the coffee table where it skidded along the glass top and came to a spinning halt.
‘Well?’ Nathan said. ‘What did she say?’
‘Nothing. She hung up on me. Shut me down, like she always does whenever I ask about Dad.’
Isabel felt dizzy with frustration, and disorientated, as though a gaping black hole had opened unexpectedly beneath her feet and she was falling into it. And then she felt Nathan’s arms around her, holding her up. Keeping her safe.
Chapter 10
It was after seven o’clock by the time Dan finished talking to Joyce Littlewood. The information she’d provided was useful and could well turn out to be connected to the case, but he’d still made no significant headway on identifying the anonymous bones. Perhaps the forensics team would come up with something. He bloody well hoped so.
The smell of smoked herring lingered in Dan’s nostrils as he drove along the A6 towards his flat in Duffield. Aside from a quick sandwich at lunchtime, he hadn’t eaten anything all day. He toyed with the idea of calling in at one of the local Indian restaurants for a takeaway, but decided he wasn’t hungry enough to justify the expense. Those stinking kippers had taken the edge off his appetite.
If he was honest, there had been something off about the whole day. Admittedly he was still getting to know DI Blood, but her behaviour this afternoon continued to baffle him.
He knew from experience that she could be cranky, but mostly, what he’d learned so far was that she was plain-speaking and straightforward. Even taking into account her connection to the house on Ecclesdale Drive, her reaction had been way off kilter. His boss was hiding something, Dan was sure of it.
He wondered how the DI would have handled things if she’d stuck around long enough to question Joyce Littlewood. Would she have concluded that the disappearance of Celia Aspen in 1986 must be linked in some way to the discovery of the bones?
If that was the case, the body had been buried years after DI Blood and her family moved out of the house. Dan wished he could update her, but he’d be in trouble with the Super if he shared information about the enquiry with his boss, now that she was officially off the case.
Detective Superintendent Tibbet had already been in touch, checking up on him. She hadn’t said as much over the phone, but he could tell from her clipped tone that she was disappointed at how little there was to report.
After he’d updated her, the Super had instructed him to arrange a meeting for eleven o’clock the following morning. She wanted him to brief the team, including the new SIO in the event that one had been appointed by then.
As he swung the car into his parking space and yanked on the handbrake, a text message pinged onto his phone. It was his ex, Alice. Dan had lived with her in Sunderland for almost a year, but she’d struggled to adjust to life with a policeman. His erratic work hours, mood swings and occasional bouts of hyperactivity had been too much for her to cope with. He’d moved out of their shared flat six months ago and then moved away from the north east completely when he got his promotion. They still kept in touch, and Alice had visited his new flat in Duffield a couple of times. They were what they jokingly referred to as ‘friends with benefits’. Neither of them had started a new relationship, so they weren’t averse to sleeping together whenever they met – but it was more out of habit than anything else.
He read Alice’s message.
I’m free this weekend if you fancy meeting up for a drink? xx
Dan knew how it would go. She would drive down to see him, or he would go up there, back to their old flat. He knew he should put a stop to it. Clinging on to a relationship with Alice, even as friends, wasn’t a good idea. It was time they both moved on.
Sorry, I’ve started investigating a new case. Will probably be working all weekend. Maybe another time. I’ll let you know.
He added a couple of kisses, but then deleted them. He didn’t want Alice to think he was pining for her.
Chapter 11
When Dan got out of bed at six-thirty the following morning, he was weary and out of sorts. It had rained heavily during the night and, even now, was still drizzly and cold. He made himself a quick breakfast of muesli and a yoghurt that was two days past its use-by-date, and then set off for work. An early start would mean a long day, but at least he would avoid the worst of the rush-hour traffic.
When he got to the office at seven-thirty, he was disconcerted to find DC Piper already at her desk, fingers tapping at the keyboard of her laptop.
‘Blimey, Zoe,’ he said. ‘Have you been here all night?’
‘I couldn’t sleep.’ She stared at her screen and squinted. ‘I thought I’d come in early to update you … run through the checks you asked me to do for the briefing.’
Typical Zoe. Organised. Professional. Thoughtful. All the things Dan should be and wasn’t.
He smiled. ‘Thanks. I appreciate it.’
She stood up, wheeled her chair over to Dan’s desk and began to go over the background information he’d asked her to dig out.
‘As well as Celia Aspen’s missing person’s file, I’ve got the names of the people who’ve lived at 23 Ecclesdale Drive over the last forty-five years.’ She handed over a list of names.
‘The next-door neighbour gave me some details yesterday,’ Dan said, pulling out his notebook and comparing the names on Zoe’s list with those provided by Joyce Littlewood.
‘Do you want me to get some intel on them?’ Zoe asked.
Dan pushed the list back towards her. ‘The first name on that list … that’s the DI’s family. Turns out she has a connection to the house. Lived there as a child, apparently.’
‘No way! The Corringtons?’ Zoe craned her neck sideways to check her recall on the names.
‘I know. What are the chances, eh?’ At this stage, he thought it was best to play down his boss’s link with the house. ‘Anyway, until such time as we can determine a more specific timeframe, there’s a potential conflict of interest – so the DI’s had to stand down from the case.’
Zoe was no fool. She sat up, her eyes bright like a rabbit on alert. ‘Do you think the DI’s family could be involved?’
Dan put on his best poker face. ‘I doubt it,’ he said. ‘Then again, you know her better than I do. What can you tell me about her family?’
‘Not a lot,’ Zoe replied. ‘I know that her mum lives in Spain, but she never talks about her dad.’
‘Does she have brothers or sisters?’
‘Not that I’m aware of. She’s never mentioned them.’ She shifted in her chair, leaning forward to close the space between them. ‘Seriously, is the DI’s family being investigated?’
‘Let’s just say they haven’t been ruled out.’ He hesitated before continuing, reluctant to sound disloyal. ‘The thing is … yesterday, at the crime scene, I got the impression she was keeping something to herself. Not being totally honest, you know? It’s probably my imagination. I mean the DI is known for her reliability, isn’t she.’
Zoe smiled. ‘You make her sound very dull and boring.’
‘I don’t mean to,’ Dan said, ‘but honest is her middle name, right?’
‘I’m not so sure about that.’ Zoe joggled her head. ‘It’s true she has a reputation for playing things straight, but I don’t think she’s quite the stickler she’s tagged as. Don’t get me wrong, she wouldn’t do anything crooked, but I get the feeling she’d break a few rules if the circumstances justified it.’
‘Like protecting her family, you mean?’
Zoe opened her mouth to respond but was halted by the shrill ringing of the telephone. Dan snatched up the receiver, wondering who was calling so early.
‘Morning, Dan. I wasn’t sure whether you’d be in yet.’
It was Raveen.
‘I’m trying to get a head start on the case,’ Dan replied. ‘To be honest, I had a restless night … couldn’t switch off.’
‘I sympathise,’ Raveen said. ‘I didn’t get much kip either, although the reason for my restlessness was a fretful baby. My son finally fell into a deep, blissful sleep when it was time for me to get up. It’s all right for him … he doesn’t have to go to work.’
‘I’m hoping this phone call means you’ve got some news on the bones?’
‘They’re still being examined. The post-mortem results should be back in a day or so, but what I can tell you is the skeleton is that of a male aged between fifty and seventy. Other than that, there’s nothing else to report as yet, but I do have something that helps with the timeframe. The forensics team have cleaned up the lighter we found.’
‘And does it have that inscription we talked about?’
He heard Raveen give a low chuckle.
‘Not exactly,’ he replied, ‘but surprisingly, it does have some markings. Why don’t you come down and I’ll show you what we’ve found?’
***
Dan decided to take Zoe with him. Their first stop was the Coppa Café opposite the police station, which opened punctually at 7.45 a.m. every day, except Sundays. Its front windows were steamed up, and two dripping umbrellas had been propped up by the door. The hunger-inducing aroma of bacon, coffee and fresh bread wafted towards them as they joined the queue. By the time they reached the counter, Dan was tempted to order a breakfast baguette, but he didn’t fancy taking it with him into the forensics unit. Instead, he ordered coffees to go: a flat white for himself and an Americano for Zoe.
‘Are we taking one for Raveen?’ Zoe asked. ‘He likes a latte with one sugar.’
‘How do you remember these things? Where do you store all this information?’
Zoe gave him an old-fashioned look. ‘In my head, in a file called “useful-to-know”. You’d be amazed what I keep in that file.’
Clutching their takeaway coffees and sachets of sugar, they stepped back out into the drizzle and dashed around to the rear of the police station, where Forensics was based. The department had a separate entrance, accessed from Devonshire Street, which necessitated a short walk around the block.
They found Raveen in the lab. There were dark circles under his sleep-deprived eyes and he looked ridiculously grateful when Zoe handed him the coffee.
‘Cheers,’ he said. ‘You don’t know how much I needed this.’
He retrieved the evidence bag containing the lighter and placed it on a metal workbench. Dan and Zoe moved in to get a closer look.
‘It was clogged with dirt when we found it, but when we removed the soil, we realised it was a Zippo – which is good news.’
‘It is?’ Dan regarded the plain, white-metal lighter sceptically.
‘Definitely. Every Zippo tells its own story. The first examples date back to the 1930s. The lighters are designed to be windproof and they come with a lifetime guarantee. More importantly for us, since the 1950s, every Zippo lighter has had a date code stamped on the bottom, as part of the quality control process.’
‘Similar to a hallmark?’ Zoe asked. ‘To show when the lighter was made?’
‘Exactly,’ said Raveen. ‘The code tells us the year of manufacture.’
He held up the evidence bag, tilting the lighter so that they could read the marks on the bottom of its metal casing. Engraved on either side of the words ‘Zippo, Bradford PA’ were three backward sloping diagonal lines. Backslashes.
‘I looked it up and these slashes are the date code for 1984,’ Raveen said. ‘The lighter was found underneath the body, which means it was either buried before … which is unlikely … or at the same time as the body. My guess is that it was in the victim’s back pocket when he was buried and, although his clothing hasn’t survived, the lighter has.’
‘So the body must have been buried sometime after 1984?’ said Dan.
Raveen nodded. ‘Sometime between 1984 – the date of the lighter – and about 2007.’
‘Why 2007?’ Zoe asked.
‘Buried without a coffin and in ordinary soil, it takes an adult corpse around twelve years to decompose to a skeleton,’ Raveen explained. ‘So, it could have been buried as recently as twelve years ago, but possibly as long as thirty-five.’
‘That’s still a wide timeframe,’ Dan said, ‘but at least it rules out the years DI Blood’s family lived at the house.’
‘Does that mean she’ll be back on the case?’ Zoe asked.
‘I’d imagine so, but it’ll be up to the Super. I’ll ring her when I get back to the office.’
‘We also found the remains of a metal zip,’ said Raveen. ‘Probably from a pair of jeans. There was no sign of any shoes, which is surprising because rubber-soled shoes can take around fifty years to decompose.’
‘So the victim wasn’t wearing shoes, when he was buried?’ said Dan.
‘He could have been wearing something lightweight,’ Zoe suggested. ‘Leather sandals maybe? Slippers or flipflops?’
‘We do have the dental plate, of course,’ said Raveen. ‘We could try and trace dental records, but there’s no single database, so it would mean contacting local dentists individually.’
‘That sounds time-consuming,’ said Zoe.
‘Quite,’ Raveen said, ‘and not guaranteed to be successful either. Realistically, the chances of finding a dental match are pretty slim, especially if the bones date back as far as the 1980s. So … we’ll need you guys to do your thing if we’re going to have any chance of identifying the victim.’
‘In that case, we’d better crack on,’ Dan said. ‘Come on, Zoe. We’ll get a refill on the coffees on the way back. Something tells me we’re going to need all the caffeine we can get.’
Chapter 12
Isabel drove to work through the morning rush hour, gazing out at the road through heavy eyelids. She’d had very little sleep the previous night. Lying awake, she’d stared at the bedroom ceiling, turning and fidgeting as she’d mulled over the previous day’s events, and speculated on what it was her mother wasn’t telling her. The questions had multiplied in her head overnight, like fast-growing bacteria in a petri dish.
As she parked her car in the last staff space at the station, her phone rang. It was Detective Superintendent Tibbet. Before she answered the call, Isabel reminded herself to be careful. She was tired and on edge, and that’s when mistakes crept in.
‘Morning, Isabel,’ the Super said. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m parking my car,’ she said. ‘I’ll be inside the station in less than a minute. Do you want me to call in to see you on my way up to the office?’
‘Actually, I’m in Matlock for a meeting at the moment,’ Val said. ‘I’ll be out for most of the day. DS Fairfax has just called me with an update, so I thought I’d give you a ring.’
‘Sure.’ Isabel’s heart was banging against her ribcage. ‘Any news?’
‘Apparently Forensics found a Zippo lighter buried with the body. They’ve dated it to 1984, which is obviously several years after your family moved out. The bones are those of a male aged between fifty and seventy and he was suffering from osteoarthritis, but there’s no obvious cause of death. I’m sure DS Fairfax will fill you in on all the details. I’ve asked him to arrange a briefing for eleven.’
Isabel leaned into the headrest as a wave of relief crashed through her solar plexus and pulsed out to every one of her nerve endings. The body wasn’t her dad’s. It had been buried after her family moved out of the house. Thank God she was still sitting in her car. Her knees would have buckled if she’d received this news as she was walking across the car park.
‘I haven’t had a chance to hand the investigation over to anyone else,’ Val said. ‘And now that we’ve got confirmation on the timescales, I can’t see any operational reason why you shouldn’t be the SIO. You’re back in charge, Isabel.’
When the call from the Super was over, Isabel placed her left hand on her midriff to steady her breathing. She felt reprieved. Overwhelmingly so. And yet, irrationally, she was also perturbed – frustrated that her dad’s whereabouts remained a mystery.
Her focus right now would have to be on getting up to speed on the case and learning everything that Dan and the team had discovered – but that didn’t mean she was going to let go of her own burning questions. Serendipitously, this case had brought the Corrington family secret back under the spotlight. She would call her mother again tonight, and this time Isabel wouldn’t let the conversation slip away from her.
***
At one minute to eleven Isabel looked around the light and airy CID room. Located on the top floor of Bainbridge police station, it had a long picture window with an impressive view of Bainbridge Mill and the river. It was a striking vantage point, but one the CID team rarely had time to admire. Over the last few years, they had been struggling to cope with an increasingly heavy caseload – although, thankfully, murders in the town were few and far between.
Two minutes earlier, DC Lucas Killingworth had sidled into the room ready for the briefing. He lived close to the office and, consequently, was able to time his arrival at work to within minutes of his scheduled start time. As usual, he looked as though he’d just rolled out of bed. His red hair needed combing and his white shirt was clean, but un-ironed.
In stark contrast, DC Zoe Piper looked smart, bright and alert, despite having worked the late shift the night before. Isabel couldn’t fault Zoe’s work ethic, but there was something slightly tiresome about her eagerness. She was like an anxious, over-zealous puppy, constantly striving to please its owner.
The uniformed officers who’d attended the scene yesterday had been invited to the briefing. They sat together along the back wall, chatting among themselves as they waited for the meeting to start.
Dan had pinned a photograph to the whiteboard and a question mark was written next to it. Isabel hoped they’d be able to make some progress with an ID after the team had discussed and reviewed what they’d learned so far.
Someone had cobbled together a tray of hot drinks and a plate of digestive biscuits. Isabel grabbed one of the mugs gratefully. The coffee was cheap and instant, but it provided a much-needed dose of caffeine.
At eleven o’clock, she stood by the whiteboard next to Dan and clapped her hands. ‘OK, everyone, let’s make a start, shall we? As you know, the skeleton of an unidentified male was found at 23 Ecclesdale Drive yesterday and, as some of you may have heard, it’s the house I lived in as a child. Because of my links with the address, DS Fairfax took charge of the scene initially while we established a more accurate timeframe on when the body was buried.’
She turned to Dan.
‘A lighter was found with the body,’ he explained. ‘It was manufactured in 1984, which means the victim has to have been buried sometime after that.’
Isabel smiled brazenly, daring anyone to challenge her. ‘My family moved out of the house in 1978. So, I’m pleased to say I’ve been eliminated from enquiries.’
A murmur of nervous laughter tumbled across the room.
‘Although this means I’m back on the case, I’m going to let Dan lead this morning’s briefing. Right now, he knows far more about the situation than I do.’
Dan pushed his hands into his pockets. ‘So far, we have very little to work with,’ he said. ‘Our priority will be to identify the victim. Based on the forensics team’s estimated timeframe on the bones, we’re looking into anyone who occupied the house between 1984 and 2007.’
‘That’s one hell of a massive window, Sarge,’ said DC Killingworth.
‘You’re right, Lucas, but we’re going to have to work with it – at least until we can narrow things down. Forensics are checking for a possible dental match. A partial dental plate was found with the body, so they might strike it lucky, but it’s a long shot, and we can’t rely on them to do our job.’
He tapped the grainy black-and-white photograph he’d pinned to the board.
‘We do have something that is definitely worth prioritising. This photograph was taken from a missing person’s file. Celia Aspen moved into 23 Ecclesdale Drive in 1979 and she disappeared in 1986. She was last seen there in May of that year. There’s no evidence yet, but it seems likely her disappearance is connected in some way to the body discovered yesterday.’
‘What do we know about Celia Aspen?’ Isabel asked.
‘A neighbour told me she was a quiet, reserved kind of person who valued her privacy. In other words, she kept herself to herself. Apparently a niece came to see her regularly but, other than that, Celia Aspen had few visitors. However, the neighbour does remember seeing a man at the house about a month before she disappeared.’
‘Do we know who he was?’ said Lucas.
‘I’m afraid not. According to the neighbour, he was in his late sixties or early seventies, he lived in Canada, and he was originally from Nottingham. That’s all the information we have.’
‘What was the name of the neighbour you spoke to?’ Isabel asked.
‘Mrs Littlewood. Joyce Littlewood.’
Isabel smiled. ‘Mrs L? Blimey, is she still around?’
‘Yes, I spoke to her last night. She’s lived at number 25 since the house was new, so I thought you’d remember her. She must be in her eighties, but she seems razor-sharp and fairly spritely for her age. There certainly doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with her memory.’
‘When I lived there, she knew everything and everyone on the street. Nothing much got past Joyce Littlewood.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me in the least,’ Dan said wryly. ‘I don’t think I’d want her as my neighbour, but she was a mine of information once she got talking. She even remembered the name of the niece.’
‘Which was?’
‘Julie Desmond. She was the person who reported Celia missing in September 1986.’
Zoe jiggled her mouse to wake up her computer screen. ‘She also inherited the house … once her aunt was declared dead, that is. According to the case file, the niece was in Australia when her aunt went missing. She flew out to Sydney on 11th May 1986 and Celia Aspen was last seen on 15th May. Julie was away for three months and, when she came back, she assumed her aunt had gone to visit a friend in Canada. When she hadn’t heard from her by September, she checked her aunt’s belongings, found her passport, and realised she wasn’t in Canada after all. That’s when she reported her missing.’