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Chapter Twenty-Five
JEN RAFFERTY WAS IN THE HOSPITAL. It was evening and the lights had been switched down. Christine had had a barrage of tests. She was fine but the consultant had decided to keep her in overnight. The nurses at their station spoke in whispers. Jen was keeping vigil with Christine’s mother and Matthew’s mother, Dorothy Venn. Christine herself was deeply asleep, troubled only by an occasional loud snore, which startled her for a moment but never really woke her.
The two older women sat on one side of the bed on the easy chairs provided for patients and visitors and Jen was on the other side on the hard, orange plastic seat she’d dragged from the corridor. The curtains had been drawn around them. Despite the discomfort, Jen found herself drowsing. Matthew had said she should leave if it seemed that Christine would be unlikely to pass on any useful information — she could always come back in the morning – but Jen stayed out of inertia. And because she was earwigging on Susan and Dorothy’s conversation. They seemed to have forgotten that she was on the other side of the bed.
‘I don’t understand what Chrissie was doing all the way out there,’ Susan said.
‘It’s not so far from your Grace and Dennis’s place.’ Dorothy Venn was furthest away from Jen and her face was in shadow, but her voice was clear. ‘Not as the crow flies. We used to walk from Lovacott up to the pond when we were children for the summer picnic with the Brethren. You remember those picnics, Susan. What wonderful times we had! There was the three-legged race and hide-and-seek and our mothers had all baked, the fields were covered in buttercups and clover, all pink and yellow.’ She paused as if lost in her memory, before continuing more sharply: ‘It’s hardly any distance, even the little ones kept up.’
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‘What are you saying? That Dennis did take her back to their house after all, and Chrissie ran off? That would make him a liar.’
There was a silence that dragged on so long that it became uncomfortable. In the end it was broken again by Susan.
‘Grace won’t hear a word said against him.’
‘Grace is a loyal wife,’ Dorothy agreed. There was another pause before she continued. ‘Matthew says you shouldn’t let Chrissie back there. Not until the investigation into the dead man is over.’
‘I won’t,’ Susan said. There was no hesitation this time and her voice was fierce. ‘I won’t be letting her out of my sight, whoever wants to care for her. She’ll be staying with me from now on.’
That was when Jen decided she could leave the women to it. Susan would be there for Christine in the unlikely event that she needed protecting. She could talk to Christine tomorrow, when the woman had had a good night’s sleep and when she was back in her own home. She’d have more to tell them then. She said her goodbyes and left. It wasn’t until she got home that she remembered seeing Colin Marston marching into the Woodyard when she was there that morning handing out the flyers about the missing woman. It was midnight, too late to call Matthew Venn now. It would save until the morning.
Chapter Twenty-Six
ANOTHER MORNING AND MATTHEW WAS preparing for another briefing. It was grey outside and not long past seven, so he’d had to switch on the lights. He stood in the empty room trying to order his thoughts, planning for the day. The priority was to find out what had happened to Christine Shapland. At the moment, they couldn’t eliminate her disappearance from the murder investigation because of the Woodyard connection. That was distracting, so it was important to know if the woman had wandered away or had been taken, and if she’d had any real involvement with Walden. He felt the weight of responsibility for all that was going on and worried again that he might be the wrong man for the job. The stress was growing; tension made his muscles ache and shortened his temper. Soon it would be an effort to keep it under control.
The team started to arrive, early. Keen. Sniffing the possibility of a result. Matthew wasn’t so sure. Optimism had never been his default setting. Ross was laughing and joking with a colleague. Jen slipped in at the back at the last minute. She looked tired, a bit dishevelled. Matthew wondered if she’d been hitting the wine when she got in from the hospital the night before. He wouldn’t have blamed her.
‘Christine Shapland.’ He leaned back against the desk at the front of the room and thought he must look like one of the older teachers at his school, jaded, a bit of a joke. ‘We need to find out what happened to her as a priority. Even if there were no murder inquiry involved, she’s a vulnerable adult and if there was an abduction, we need to find the perpetrator. I’ve just phoned the hospital and she’s fine. She’s going to be allowed home this morning. Jen, I’d like you to wait until she’s home and go to see her. Jonathan’s offered to go with you. He’s known the woman for years and the mother trusts him too. She wants him there for the interview. You met Susan at the hospital and I don’t want to introduce someone new at this stage.’
Jen nodded. Matthew thought she’d rather be a part of the main Walden inquiry but she could see the sense in what he’d asked. He turned back to the room and raised his voice a notch. After all this time he allowed himself to show his impatience. ‘Ross, where are we on Walden’s finances? That missing two hundred grand? It can’t just have vanished into thin air.’ ‘I’ve already left a message for the human resources guy at the Kingsley Hotel. I’ll try again now, find out how Walden was paid when he was working there.’
‘I’m sure you find this kind of detail tedious, Ross. Not as exciting as you’d like, but it’s important and I have asked you to treat it as a priority.’
There was a shocked silence in the room. Matthew never criticized a colleague in public. Ross blushed and shifted in his seat, but Matthew was running out of patience with the man; this inability to find Walden’s money was becoming ridiculous. ‘The solicitor who dealt with Walden’s will is coming in this afternoon. If all else fails, he might have some idea about the finances.’
‘I’ll sort it out.’ Ross sounded moody, resentful.
‘Please do.’ Matthew turned his attention back to Jen. ‘Once you’ve spoken to Susan, I’d like you to go back to St Cuthbert’s. Have any of Caroline’s clients suddenly come into money? Or dropped out of the programme unexpectedly? Let’s see if we can find the person who searched Walden’s flat.’
Matthew was about to send them on their way when Jen raised her hand. ‘When I was canvassing the Woodyard service users yesterday, Colin Marston from the toll keeper’s cottage came in. He looked as if he might be there in an official capacity. I didn’t speak to him and I don’t think he recognized me, but it seemed an odd coincidence.’
Matthew drove to the Marstons’ house immediately after the meeting. From the beginning he’d had a niggle of suspicion about the couple who lived on the edge of the marsh; their interest in the case had seemed disproportionate and they lived not far from the Shaplands’ cottage. There was no reply at the door and their car had gone. He stood, uncertain what to do next, thinking he might just call into his own house for a snatched cup of good coffee and a moment’s peace, when he saw Marston in the distance on the ridge of the bank that separated the marsh from the river. It was a still day, misty and overcast, and the man was little more than a silhouette from here. Marston was staring out towards the estuary, not moving, with his back to where Matthew was standing. Matthew pulled his car further down the track and parked close to his house. There was a moment of panic when the man disappeared out of his sightline, hidden by one of their outbuildings, a crumbling boathouse. Matthew worried that Marston might have moved on. He could have walked away towards the point. Matthew thought it would be ridiculously undignified to chase after the man, to arrive breathless and sweating to ask his questions.
When he got out of the car, however, he saw that Marston was still there, still staring out over the water. The outline of the opposite bank was blurred by drizzle. Any birds that flew out of the mist would only be silhouettes. The man turned when he heard Matthew climbing the bank towards him.
‘I’m glad I saw you,’ Matthew said. ‘I went to your house but nobody was in.’
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