DEAD & BURIED a gripping crime thriller full of twists Read online

  She laughed out loud. “What an imagination! How could I possibly have known her?”

  “I don’t know yet, but you did.” Calladine sounded certain but he had nothing to back this up other than his and Ruth’s gut feeling. “Your reaction to seeing a dead body was all wrong. When you saw who it was things changed and you got stuck in.”

  “A bit of lipstick!”

  “I don’t buy it. The woman had been murdered, shot. Her clothing was bloody, and she’d been beaten. You happen along and set about fixing her face . . . Come on.”

  “I didn’t see it like that.”

  “Where do you come from, Mrs Mallon?”

  “I live in New York, have done for years. Hence the accent,” she smiled. “My husband’s job was there, so we moved.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Greg is dead and buried, I’m afraid.”

  “Where did you live prior to New York?”

  She sipped her wine. “I’ve lived all over the world. I’ve been lucky. I married a man who was well able to provide for me, and provide he did.”

  “But you were born around here.” Another stab in the dark.

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “I think you knew very well who Emily Blackwell was and you felt sorry for her.”

  Her face was like thunder. “Prove it.”

  “Come on, Mrs Mallon. Where were you born?”

  She shook her head. “Completely irrelevant.”

  “We can easily find out. Won’t take more than an hour or so.”

  She glowered at them both. “You do that. I refuse to be interrogated like this.”

  “Who is Robert Silver?” Calladine could see Rocco looking curious. The DC would be wondering why he’d suddenly pulled that name out of the hat.

  Tanya Mallon looked from one detective to the other. “I have no idea.”

  “You and he ate here the other night.”

  “I’ve met a lot of people since I’ve been here. Other guests, the manager and a number of the barmen. We talk, we have a glass of wine and sometimes we eat together. I don’t remember them all.”

  “Back to Emily Blackwell. She was a friend of Costello’s. He knew her from years ago when they both lived in the area. So where do you fit in, Mrs Mallon?”

  “It’s very simple — I don’t. As I told you.”

  And Calladine couldn’t prove otherwise — yet.

  * * *

  “Dom, I want you to check something out.”

  Eliza King was sitting in the kitchen of Calladine’s house talking on the phone to Sergeant Dominic Shevlin. “That number we had for Gavin Trent — it’s gone dead. I’ll text it to you. Would you find out who the service provider is? I have a horrible feeling that we’ve been fed a shedload of lies.”

  “Surely not, ma’am.”

  “The case is falling apart. The informant has disappeared before he had the chance to tell me anything useful. I’m being pushed to set up an interview with Costello and I can’t contact Trent.”

  “Costello?”

  “Yes. His name has come up in a case the team at Leesdon are working on. DI Calladine doesn’t suspect Costello of anything, but he thinks he could clear up one or two details.”

  “Can’t you contact whoever put you onto Trent in the first place?”

  “No. He contacted me and that’s the problem. It was a couple of months ago when we were working on that big drug case in Hull. Costello’s name was being bandied about, and next thing I get a phone call from Trent. I should have handled things differently but it was a way in and I grabbed it. The problem is that if I can’t raise Trent then the team here will approach Costello directly. And if they do that they could really balls things up. If our informant does have anything to give us, then I want it.”

  “Do you think Trent knows what you’re up to? Could that be why he’s pulled the plug?”

  “I don’t see how he can. We are a tight team.”

  “No chance the informant will turn up?”

  “I can’t call it. If he’s got any sense he’ll have scarpered. I know I would. Someone is on to him. Two of his mates have been killed.”

  “In that case Costello knows,” Dominic Shevlin said. “He’ll not rest until he’s secured his position again. Did you get anything at all from the informant?”

  “No. The last time he called we were going to meet when I got to Leesdon. All I know is that whatever he wants to tell us can put Costello away for the rest of his life. We need that information, Dom. We have all worked too long and hard on this to simply give up now. But that said, I don’t know how to proceed . . . Did you call in on the girls?”

  “Yes. Becca’s fine but Jade wasn’t there. Becca says she’s going to her auntie’s until you’re back.”

  “Jade is with him — Harvey Evans. I’m worried, Dom. She won’t listen to reason and I’m sure she’s using again. If this case goes pear-shaped that’s something Costello can use. Evans works for him, don’t forget.”

  * * *

  “DCI King? A word, please,” Rhona Birch called out as Eliza King passed her office door. “We have Kayne Archer in custody. DI Calladine spoke to him earlier.” She handed over the statement.

  Eliza King read through the document and slammed it down on the desk. “He maintains it was all a put-up job? I don’t understand. We had an arrangement. We’ve talked numerous times. He’s lying, trying to wriggle out of it. This is cold feet, that’s all.”

  “Calladine thinks he’s telling the truth.”

  “Calladine doesn’t know the Costello case or the informant like I do.”

  “Nonetheless, before you dive in there I want you to talk to Calladine. In fact the pair of you can interview Archer together next time.”

  Eliza King was reading through the statement again. “If Archer has been spinning us lies, then all the work my team has put in has been for nothing. We were promised information that would lock Costello away for good.” She was furious. Her face was red, her voice full of venom.

  “We all agree that Costello is a villain who should have been put away years ago. You’ll get no arguments from anyone here on that one. What I don’t understand is why this affects you so much.” Rhona Birch waited for Eliza King to say something. “When we first spoke, Calladine said this was personal. I think he’s right. Is there anything you want to tell me, DCI King?”

  Eliza King shook her head. “You’re wrong. I’m just doing my job.”

  “Don’t speak to that young man alone,” Birch warned as she left the office. King was lying. There was more to this than she was telling. “There is to be a briefing in fifteen minutes. Make sure you’re there.”

  Chapter 16

  DI Calladine, Rocco, Imogen and DCI Birch were seated around a table in the large meeting room. Joyce was taking notes.

  “DCI King should be here,” grumbled Birch. “I don’t like her lone-ranger tactics and I’ll tell her so when she turns up. She hasn’t been near Archer, has she?”

  Calladine shook his head. He passed round copies of a short report on their progress so far.

  “I’ve spoken to Superintendent McCabe. He thinks it’s a good idea if someone speaks to Costello. I think that someone should be you, DI Calladine. DCI King is too personally involved in my opinion. Though don’t ask me how because she’s not saying.”

  Calladine’s stomach jolted. Interview Vinny Costello. He wondered how that would pan out. His nerves began to jangle.

  “You okay, Inspector?”

  “Yes, ma’am, why wouldn’t I be?” He winked at Imogen. “Apologies for the report being a little sparse. We have to gather a lot more background information. We need to know about Tanya Mallon’s past for a start. She has a connection to Emily and to Costello. I don’t buy what she told us about finding Emily’s body. My gut feeling is that she’s from around here and knew Emily. So who is she? We should also ask if she’s the woman Archer told us about.”

  “I’ll look into her past, sir,” Imog
en offered. She checked the notes Rocco had made when they’d interviewed her. “Her husband’s name was Greg. I should find her maiden name from the marriage records.”

  “She may not have married in this country. She’s lived for a while in the US.”

  “No worries.” Imogen was scribbling on a pad.

  “We now have an old school satchel belonging to Carol Rhodes. It’s gone to forensics. I’ve asked them to look at the diary first and pass on anything that will help the case.”

  “Annie Naden read it, sir. The final entry was on the sixth of May, 1969. Carol wrote that she was pregnant.”

  “We know Clough Cottage was where girls went for an abortion. You’ve been told that, Imogen, and I was too by someone who lived in the town at that time. Is that what Carol did? Is that why her satchel was there?”

  “There is no one left to ask, sir,” Rocco pointed out. “The woman who lived there — Mary, or Granny Slater as she was known, is long gone. Even if she’s still alive we’d have to find her.”

  Rocco was right. But there was someone who might have the answer to this — Costello. He’d been Carol’s boyfriend. What was the betting that he was also the father of her unborn child?

  “Forensics?” He looked at Imogen.

  “The Nadens are not happy, but that kitchen is being taken apart as we speak. The satchel was found in a cupboard built into the wall panelling. Finding it at all was a piece of luck.”

  At that moment Eliza King entered the room. She nodded at Birch and sat down.

  “You can start compiling a list of things I need to speak to Costello about,” Calladine told the team. He looked at DCI King. “Nothing heavy. We simply want information about Carol Rhodes and what happened to her.”

  Eliza King cleared her throat. “Gavin Trent has let me down. I can no longer reach him on the mobile number he gave me.”

  “We don’t need him. McCabe will sort things for us,” Birch told her.

  “When did Trent first contact you?” asked Calladine.

  “A couple of months ago.”

  “And Archer?”

  Eliza King’s eyes went wide. She grimaced. “Yes. About the same time,” she muttered.

  “It could have been Trent who recruited Archer for Costello. Did you ever meet him?”

  “No. We only ever talked on the phone.”

  “Is this important?” Birch asked.

  “Could be, ma’am. He could be the mystery man who’s missing half a finger.”

  “We will liaise directly with Costello’s legal team. And DI Calladine will do the talking,” Birch said in no uncertain terms.

  “I’m not sure we should speak to him at all, Tom.” Eliza King spoke directly to Calladine.

  Rocco nudged Imogen. She’d just called him Tom. Was she coming round?

  “Why are you so concerned about what happened to this Carol?” Eliza King asked him. “Surely something that happened forty-odd years ago can have little bearing on Emily Blackwell’s murder.”

  “It’s a line of enquiry Ruth Bayliss suggested. Personally, I think she’s right. I don’t know what, but something happened in the past that has a direct bearing on recent events.”

  “There is nothing in Emily’s life that offers a clue. She was spotless,” Imogen added.

  “Well, there’s the money from Jet Holdings,” Birch reminded them. “The payments started in June 1969. We have no idea what the money is for and neither does her family. But Jet Holdings is Costello. When DI Calladine speaks to him perhaps he’ll clear that one up too.”

  “I’ll be sure to ask him,” he said. “I’ll be surprised if he’s very forthcoming. But something happened in that cottage back then. My gut instinct tells me that whatever it was led directly to Emily’s murder a few days ago.”

  Birch nodded. “Very well, Calladine. We’ll run with this for now. But don’t forget we also have two dead young men. Again, no motive and no suspects. If we don’t clear that one up soon we’ll have the super on our tails.”

  Rocco was checking his phone. “Tanya Mallon’s car was driven last night, sir. The CCTV caught it returning to the hotel, just as you thought. The quality of the footage isn’t good. All we got was a shadow of a figure.”

  Calladine explained to Birch. “She spun us a tale about her car being taken and returned.”

  “When will you speak to Costello?” Eliza King asked.

  “As soon as he agrees,” said Birch. “He is merely being asked to provide us with information. He is not under suspicion, so I see no reason for him to refuse.”

  * * *

  “It’s done through Joe, the odd-job man. He picks up the flowers from the shop and brings them to the grave. You should talk to him. He’s been here far longer than me. Before him, it was his father who did all the jobs around the churchyard.”

  “So the flowers thing was sort of passed down?” Ruth asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “But no one knows who they are from. Don’t you find that odd, Reverend?”

  “I can’t say I’ve ever really thought about it. Families do all sorts of things. There is a grave in that far corner that has tomato plants growing on it for most of the summer.”

  “I’ll find him and see what he knows,” Ruth decided.

  Ruth pushed Harry around until she spotted Joe. He was tending a flowerbed full of glorious blooms. “You have green fingers,” Ruth said.

  “And you have your hands full,” he answered, peering into the pram. “Having him christened here?”

  Ruth nodded.

  “You local?”

  “Yes. I’ve got family going back to the nineteenth century in here somewhere,” she replied. “Plus two on the war memorial.”

  He smiled. Her answer seemed to please him.

  “Agnes Jackson. Do you know who leaves the flowers?”

  “I do.”

  “Did you know her — Agnes?”

  “No, but the flowers aren’t for her. They’re for Doris, her mother. I collect them from the florist every week. But I expect that’ll stop now she’s dead.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Mrs Blackwell paid for the flowers. That woman that got shot up on the hill. I just chose them, picked them up and put them on the grave.”

  “Did you ever speak to Mrs Blackwell? Ask her about the grave?”

  He shook his head. “I knew her of course but it was her business, not mine.”

  “And this has gone on for some time?”

  “All the way back to when her mother died.”

  “What about the card, Joe? Who decided what should be written on it?”

  “Mrs Blackwell did. The florist wrote it. It was always the same words.”

  “Weren’t you ever curious, Joe? Did you ever talk about this to anyone else?”

  “It was none of my business, Miss. Mrs Blackwell paid me and I did as she asked.”

  Ruth took another look at the grave. “How do you know the flowers were for Doris?”

  “Who else could they be for? There’s only the two of them in there.”

  “When was this dug?”

  “The date’s on the headstone. May 1969 for Doris. My father will have dug it.”

  “Once they’ve been prepared are the graves ever left open and unattended?”

  “We put a barrier up overnight.” He smiled. “Stop people falling in.”

  “Thanks, Joe. You’ve been a great help.”

  This mystery went back years. Whoever started the flowers thing didn’t want their identity known, so they’d got Emily to organise it. She rang the nick and Imogen answered. “The graveyard in Leesdon Church,” Ruth told her. “Flowers are left regularly on the grave of a woman, one Doris Ludford. This has gone on since 1969. She’s buried with her daughter, Agnes Jackson, who died about a year ago. The interesting bit is that during all this time the flowers have been paid for by Emily Blackwell. She didn’t do it herself though, she paid the odd-job man here to pick them up for her. Would
you check if there’s any connection between Doris Ludford and Emily?”

  “1969, you say? What date exactly did Doris die?”

  Ruth checked her notes. “May Seventh.”

  * * *

  The first thing Imogen did was to check with the florist in Leesdon. Emily Blackwell had paid for the flowers by direct debit each month.

  She handed Calladine the information from Ruth. “You should see this. I don’t know what it means. I’ve checked if Emily knew this Doris or had any connection with the family, but I can’t find anything.”

  Calladine looked at the date. “The entry in Carol Rhodes’s diary?”

  “The last entry was the day before, sir. It was one word — ‘pregnant.’”

  “Great work, both of you. Anything on Tanya’s past yet?”

  “I’m still searching. How old would you say she was?”

  “Fifty or so. But she’s well preserved. She’s done some maintenance — not like me.” He rubbed at his stubble. “I’m nipping home in a bit for a proper shave. It was a bit of a rush this morning and I’ve got DCI King staying.”

  Imogen shot him a speculative look.

  “No, you don’t,” he warned. “The rumour mill is bad enough around here. Before you get any smart ideas, she was staying at the Wheatsheaf before. What was I supposed to do?”

  “Sir!” Joyce interrupted, holding out the office phone. “Professor Batho.”

  “Tom, the gun has been used before. Way back in the late sixties it was used in a robbery at a post office in Oldston. No one was killed but a customer was winged in the leg. The bullet was retrieved from the wall and has been kept in storage ever since. The striation marks were on the database.”

  “Why, if no one was killed? It wasn’t a murder investigation.”

  “The investigating team at that time believed the gun belonged to Vincent Costello. He was in on the robbery. A witness statement has him wielding the thing but the details are sketchy. Other evidence that would have convicted Costello was botched or disappeared, including the gun. So he walked. They hoped to gather further evidence if the gun was used again. But it never was. Not until recently.”

  “When in the late sixties?”

  “November ’68.”

  “So it wasn’t definite that Costello owned the gun or that he’d used it?”