Page 45 of Worse Than Murder (DCI Matilda Darke Thriller #13)

I grab a tablecloth from the nearest table and stumble over to Philip.

While I’m covering him to keep him warm and checking his airways to make sure there are no obstructions, Sally bursts into the restaurant, soon followed by Carl and the two dogs who immediately make a fuss.

I shout to Sally to call for an ambulance, then I put Philip into the recovery position.

I can feel a pair of eyes burning into me.

I look up and there’s Carl standing in the doorway.

His face is ashen, his eyes wide and staring.

‘It’s happening again,’ he says.

‘It’s not, Carl. It’s not. I promise you,’ I say as I cradle his father.

‘You can’t promise that.’ A tear runs down his face, lit up by the moonlight.

‘The ambulance is on its way,’ Sally says, returning to the restaurant. ‘I gave Inspector Forsyth a ring, too. She’s coming straight over. Is he going to be all right?’ Sally asks with a tearful voice, looking down at her husband.

‘Sally, it might be best if Carl went upstairs.’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he says, defiantly.

* * *

I’m treated at the scene. I tell the paramedics I hadn’t lost consciousness, and they believe me.

Truth be told, I’ve no idea if I did lose consciousness.

Philip is placed onto a stretcher complete with neck brace to keep him secure.

He’s then taken, by Air Ambulance, to Penrith Hospital.

Sally and Carl go upstairs to change and follow in the car.

Gill Forsyth arrives at the same time as the ambulance.

Her appearance looks softer out of uniform.

Her hair is pulled back into an unruly ponytail, and she’s quickly dressed in jeans and a jumper and battered North Face walking boots.

With two uniformed officers dusting the doors and bar for prints as well as checking the floor for fibres and hairs, I take Gill upstairs and make us both a mug of tea.

As much as I want alcohol, I decide against it following a bang on the head. See, I’m not totally reckless.

‘What happened here tonight?’ Gill asks once we’re both seated in the living room.

I tell her as much as I can remember. Philip had been going to bed, the last one, as usual, when he heard a noise downstairs. Rather than wake Sally, he sought my help instead. He wanted to protect his wife and son as much as possible. Understandable.

‘He has a gun. Do you know he has a gun?’ I ask.

‘Yes. It’s registered and perfectly legal.’

‘I hate guns,’ I say, gripping the mug with both hands.

‘I’m not a fan either.’

‘I took it from him. I broke it and took the cartridges out. Whoever broke in, they grabbed it from me and aimed it at Philip. They pulled the trigger. They didn’t even think twice about it. They just pointed it at him. They would have…’

‘You saved his life,’ Gill says.

‘But did I put it in danger in the first place?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘These attempted break-ins only started when I arrived. Sally and Philip have put it down to chancers wanting to steal a few bottles of whisky. Tonight has shown how far whoever is doing this is prepared to go. They didn’t know the gun wasn’t loaded. They would have shot and killed Philip.’

‘You think this serial killer who has been emailing you has followed you from Sheffield?’

‘I… It looks like it.’

But then again, I can’t help but think about the man pausing as I called out ‘Jack’. Is Jack Pemberton still alive? Has he broken into the restaurant? If so, why? Does he want food and drink, or is there more to it than mere survival?

‘Then why didn’t he turn the gun on you?’ Gill asks. ‘You said it was you holding the gun, that the intruder snatched it from you and pushed you to the ground. Why didn’t he try to shoot you then? He had the perfect opportunity.’

I think about that. I go through the incident in my head. Gill’s right. Philip didn’t shout out or anything. The intruder wasn’t aware Philip was even there until he turned around and saw him blocking his escape. He could easily have shot me. So, why didn’t he?

Gill takes a sip of her tea. ‘Matilda, is it possible this could be about the Meagan family? Those who kidnapped Carl in 2015, could they be back to silence him?’

‘I don’t know. Carl wasn’t able to give us a definite description of them when they took him.

Years had passed from when he was kidnapped to when he returned.

He’d been through a lot. It’s understandable he couldn’t describe them.

The couple in Sweden bought Carl from a man and a woman.

The woman has since been arrested. She turned out to be part of a huge illegal adoption scheme based in Germany.

She refused to say anything and accepted the life sentence. She hasn’t helped the police at all.’

‘Let’s say it is the kidnappers, coming back to silence Carl, why would they do that?’ Gill asks. ‘They’ve no way of knowing if Carl would even remember them.’

‘Maybe their paths have crossed, somehow. One of the kidnappers could have seen Carl here in the Lake District, or elsewhere, and followed him home. When Carl first disappeared, it was a huge news story.’

‘I remember.’

‘If the kidnappers were ever found, they’d be arrested for not only kidnapping, but for murder, too. They killed Annabel, Carl’s grandmother. They’d do anything they could to avoid being caught.’

‘Including killing him?’

‘Yes.’

‘Jesus. It could be anyone, couldn’t it?’

‘All we know is that two men kidnapped Carl. We don’t know anything about age, height, skin colour, accent, nothing.

He could live in High Chapel, or the surrounding area, or maybe he was passing through and saw Carl from a distance.

Or maybe he saw an advertisement for Nature’s Diner and put two and two together.

’ I close my eyes as a wave of pain shoots through my head.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes. I think the pain relief might be starting to wear off.’

‘Do you want me to get you anything?’

‘No. I’ve got some Ibuprofen in my room.’

‘You shouldn’t be here on your own, not after a head injury. Would you like me to stay?’

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Why do I get the feeling that’s your answer to every question?’

I look over to her and snort a laugh. ‘Because it is.’

‘No woman is an island, Matilda.’

There’s a knock on the door. Gill looks up. ‘Yes, Stokes, what is it?’

‘This envelope was on the mat. It’s addressed to Matilda Darke.’

I take the plain white envelope from him. All it has on the front is my name. Nothing else. ‘It’s been hand-delivered.’ I tear it open and pull out a single sheet of A4 paper. It’s old, yellowed with age. I cast my eyes left to right, from top to bottom, my mouth wide as I take in the contents.

‘What is it?’ Gill asks.

‘I don’t believe this.’

‘What?’

‘This is Travis Montgomery’s statement from 1992 when he reported his car missing.’

‘What?’ Gill asks, incredulously. ‘But it wasn’t reported missing.’

‘It clearly was. This is a typed statement taken by Inspector Lionel Bell and signed by Travis Montgomery in which he claims the car was stolen from outside the farmhouse.’

‘What’s the date?’

‘August the eighth. Three days before Celia and Jennifer went missing.’

‘Why send it to you?’

I don’t say anything. I look at Gill. ‘Why didn’t you tell me Inspector Bell is your father?’

‘Ah.’

‘Are you embarrassed? Ashamed?’

‘Of course, not.’

‘Then why lie?’

‘I… I didn’t want him drawn into this. Not again.’

‘Into what?’

‘This!’ she exclaims. ‘This nightmare of the Pembertons. It almost killed my dad. He couldn’t solve it, and he had an entire village looking at him for answers.’

‘And the money placed into his bank account?’

‘He did not steal that money,’ she says, slowly.

‘Are you talking as a daughter or a police inspector?’

‘I know my dad. He’s not a thief.’

‘But someone made him into one, and I think I know why.’ I hold up the statement.

‘Someone clearly told your father to remove this statement from the records. They used the stolen money as a way to blackmail him into doing it. It didn’t work as the news about the money got out anyway, but by then it was too late for your father to do anything.

If he spoke up about the statement, he would have looked guilty for removing it in the first place. ’

Gill’s face bears an expression of sadness. She looks down. ‘My dad did not take that money,’ she says, though her words lack conviction now.

‘There are only three people who could have sent this statement to me. One: your father. He’s tired of having this hanging over his head and wants me to break the silence and expose the blackmailer who is very likely the killer of Celia and Jennifer.

Two: Tania Pritchard. She’s held a torch for your father since before your mother died.

He could have given the statement to her, and she could have sent it anonymously to me so that I’ll do the digging and the dirty work and have the population of High Chapel hate me when I expose a beloved member of this community as a killer.

But I don’t think it was either of them. ’

‘No?’

‘No. I think it was you.’

Gill looks at me. ‘Me? What makes you think it was me?’

‘Firstly, because when I told you what was in this envelope, you didn’t ask to look at it.

That tells me you already know what it says.

Secondly, you know I went to see your father today and you’re trying to protect him from any awkward questions I might have.

And three, there is no way this could have been left on the mat because the restaurant doesn’t have a letterbox. ’

‘Doesn’t it?’

‘No.’

‘Oh. I thought…’ She seems to collapse in on herself. ‘I’d make a terrible detective, wouldn’t I?’

‘Not terrible, but not great.’ I sigh. ‘I have a splitting headache, and I need a drink. Care to join me?’

‘I don’t usually drink scotch,’ Gill says as she looks at the golden liquid in the glass. She takes a sniff and recoils.

‘Neither do I.’ I take a sip and wince. I wait as the alcohol burns my throat. It’s a new sensation, and I like it. I take a longer drink. ‘I think I could get used to this.’

Gill pulls a face after taking a mouthful. ‘I don’t think I could.’

‘How long have you had the statement?’ I ask.

Gill coughs. ‘Too long. Years. Decades.’

‘I’m right, aren’t I? Travis reported his car stolen. The girls went missing. Your father was blackmailed to remove it from the file.’

Gill starts to cry. She stands up, goes over to the hallway door and closes it so we can’t be overheard. She returns to the sofa.

‘My dad did steal that money,’ she says, her voice breaking. ‘Mum had not long since died. She had no insurance. You don’t think you’re going to need it, when you’re thirty.’

‘How did she die?’

‘She had a brain aneurysm. She went to bed one night, everything safe and normal, and didn’t wake up the next morning.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘With no second wage coming in, a funeral to pay for, mortgage, bills, food, and me, Dad couldn’t cope. Gideon was dead. That money was just sitting there.’

‘Who blackmailed your dad?’

‘I don’t know. He’s never told me. I’ve asked him until I’m blue in the face and he’s point-blank refused to name them.’

‘Do you have an inkling?’

‘No. I don’t. I really don’t. I know it’s horrible for me to say, but I’ve tried to forget.

I’ve hoped and prayed that the case would remain unsolved, at least while my dad is still alive.

I know he won’t be able to cope with it all coming out.

Now the car has been found and the girls are in the back, I knew it wouldn’t be possible to keep it a secret.

I thought– and I’m so sorry for this– but I thought if you were the one to expose it, people might turn on you rather than me and my dad. ’

‘Thank you for that,’ I say, flippantly. ‘Well, I’ve got a serial killer in Sheffield after me; I suppose having an entire village wanting to lynch me on this side of the Pennines won’t make any difference.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she says again. She wipes her eyes with the backs of her hands. ‘What are you going to do?’

I remain silent while I think. ‘Whatever your dad is wanting to protect you from is clearly still a threat thirty years after the event. That can only mean one thing– whoever took Celia and Jennifer is still out there. It wasn’t Travis Montgomery.

He was merely a scapegoat. The kidnapper is alive and well, keeping an eye on all of this and ready to strike when the truth is close to being revealed. ’

‘Jack Pemberton?’ Gill asks.

‘Who else?’

‘So, he killed his daughters then faked his death to avoid capture. But why did Travis go missing?’

‘Maybe Jack killed him. Maybe Jack really has been watching his family from a distance, keeping an eye on his daughter growing up. Maybe he saw Travis and Lynne together, didn’t like it, so killed him.’

‘Yet, he was fine with Lynne marrying his brother?’ Gill asks.

‘Clearly.’

‘The question that springs to mind then is how do we find a man who doesn’t want to be found?’

‘We have to lure him out.’

‘How do we do that?’

I think for a moment, but nothing comes to mind. My head is too heavy. ‘I haven’t a fucking clue, Gill.’