Small Town Trouble (Some Very English Murders Book 4) Read online

  Small Town Trouble

  Some Very English Murders - Book Four

  Issy Brooke

  Text copyright 2015 Issy Brooke

  All rights reserved

  Cover credit: background vector illustration Denis Demidenko via 123rf.com

  Cover design and dog illustration by Issy Brooke

  Author’s Hello

  Just a quick heads-up on the whole spelling and grammar thing. I’m a British author and this book is set in England. Sometimes, British English looks unfamiliar to readers of other variants of English. It’s not just spelling (colour and realise and so on) and not just the vocabulary (pavement for sidewalk, mobile for cell phone) but there are differences even in the way we express ourselves. (In the US, it is more common to say something like “did you see Joanne?” whereas in the UK we would say “have you seen Joanne?” and so on.) Also, my characters do not speak grammatically correct sentences - who does? Not me. Rest assured this book has been copyedited and proofread (errors, alas, are my own and I won’t shoot my editor if you find any.)

  And another thing - locations. Lincolnshire is real. It’s a massive rural county in the east of England, with a sparse population. It’s mostly agricultural. Upper Glenfield, the town in this tale, is fictional. Lincoln, the main city nearest to Glenfield, does exist and it’s worth a visit. The only thing I’ve fictionalised in Lincoln is the layout and situation of the police station.

  You can find out more about Lincolnshire and the characters in Glenfield at my website, http://www.issybrooke.com

  Why not sign up to my mailing list? You get advance notice of new releases at a special price - but no spam. No one wants spam. Check it out here: http://issybrooke.com/newsletter/

  Chapter One

  “There is literally grass on my pizza.” Destiny channelled fifteen years’ worth of bristling indignation into her voice. “I can’t even.”

  “Can’t even what? And no, it’s not grass. It’s spinach, and I’m sure you know it,” Penny May said, trying not to roll her eyes at her petulant niece. The young woman would simply roll her eyes back at her, and with those thick black outlines of kohl, she was always going to beat Penny in any eye-rolling contest.

  “I just cannot.”

  “Can’t what? Eat it, understand it, taste it? Finish a sentence?”

  “Ugh.” Destiny picked at the pizza and pulled the spinach off, the ricotta cheese making short sticky strands before falling to the plate in small lumps. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor of Penny’s tiny Lincolnshire cottage, her back leaning against the small sofa.

  Next to her, nestled on a beanbag, was her twelve-year-old brother, Wolf. He had pizza in one hand, spinach and all. His other rested on the back of a drooling Rottweiler. Kali was lying down, her paws crossed out in front of her, her eyes never leaving the wedge of food in the young man’s hand. Destiny, Wolf and their mother – Penny’s sister, Ariadne – had been lodging in Penny’s cottage for four weeks. But it had only taken Kali about four hours to realise that the greatest amount of dropped and discarded food came from the boy. Since then, she had rarely left his side.

  “It’s just an expression of exasperation. She can’t even find the energy to finish what she’s saying,” Wolf said patiently. “It’s all a bit meta.”

  “Get you!” Destiny mocked. “Long words and everything.”

  “Polysyllabic,” Wolf said. When he wasn’t eating pizza, he generally had his head in a book. “Don’t you think it’s funny that monosyllabic isn’t?”

  “Do what?”

  “Never mind.”

  The bickering continued. Penny sighed, and picked at the scrap of token salad on the side of her plate. Opposite her, shrunken deep into the other armchair in the small cottage room, sat her pale and thin sister.

  Even four weeks of decent food hadn’t made much of an impression on her hollow cheekbones and deep-set eyes. At first, Penny had challenged her, urging her to eat. Ariadne had pouted and turned away, avoiding the conversation and the confrontation.

  Then Penny had started to notice how Ariadne wouldn’t eat until her children had eaten; how the children themselves had eaten quickly, nervously, as if they were expecting someone to snatch it all away.

  Had he done that to them? Penny’s stomach had been a knot of burning anger since they’d sought sanctuary from Owen, the family fleeing to Upper Glenfield to escape an angry, controlling husband and father.

  He’d followed. Of course he had. He’d turned up a few days later, parking his rusty old van on wasteland opposite the Arches Hotel and Conference Centre on the eastern edge of town. He hadn’t tried to approach Ariadne and the children, and part of Penny was disappointed.

  She had a Rottweiler, after all (even though Kali would have licked him to death, it was the appearance of things that mattered) and she had a lot of anger directed towards the man.

  Now, the kids were taking more time over their food, but Ariadne watched them like a hawk, and at any sign that they wanted some more, she was ready to jump up and offer them chips from her own plate.

  Penny had started to serve things in large central bowls, so everyone could dig in and help themselves, and she always cooked more than she thought she would need to. No one, she vowed, was going to go hungry in her house.

  Kali thought it was heaven.

  “Eat your spinach,” Ariadne said suddenly. “You’re lucky to have it.”

  Destiny pulled a face. “I’m full now. Sorry. I can’t.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Penny said, wanting to stave off an argument before one even began.

  “It does,” Ariadne said.

  “Does it, though?” Wolf said, in such a serious old man’s voice that everyone fell silent.

  Penny felt a chill ripple over her bare forearms, in spite of the August warmth. She pretended to look at her plate which was resting on her knees, but she peeked up at Ariadne opposite as surreptitiously as she could.

  Ariadne’s long, pale fingers clutched the sides of a tray on her thighs. She bent her head, and her shoulders lifted and fell, once, twice.

  Eventually she said, in the tight voice of stoppered-up tears, “No. No, it doesn’t really matter, does it? Really. In the grand scheme of things. When you think about it. And all that.”

  “You mean dad,” Wolf said, and Ariadne shuddered.

  Penny had nearly bitten through her tongue the past month, trying her very hardest to be tactful and patient. Both of her close local friends, Drew and Cath, had urged her to let Ariadne open up in her own time. Cath, as a police officer, had been particularly firm in this regard. She’d dealt with all sorts of domestic situations, she reminded Penny. “And you’ve got my number for when you need me,” she had said.

  And then Ariadne began to talk, and Penny knew that the need had come.

  * * * *

  When Cath arrived less than half an hour later, off duty and dressed down in comfortable grey jogging bottoms and a t-shirt that had apparently been shaped to fit a pregnant four-armed hippo, Kali had abandoned her vigil at Wolf’s feet. She was now lying on the floor by Ariadne, who had also slipped from her seat to join the dog on the mat. Kali’s low purring, a bizarre feature of happy Rottweilers, filled the background. Kali seemed to know she was needed, and a dog with a job was a happy dog indeed.

  Cath and Ariadne had met a few times, and she came to sit on the floor as well, between Wolf on his beanbag and the Kali-Ariadne entwined heap. Penny was about to bustle through and make hot drinks, but Destiny surprised her by jumping up and offering to play hostess.

  She’d never been so helpful before. But she
didn’t look at Penny. She blinked as she looked at her mother, and disappeared into the kitchen. Penny took her seat once more, and listened.

  As Ariadne’s tale unfolded, Penny’s anger swelled and roiled in her belly. She’d expected most of it; it was the sad and unremarkable story of a woman whose early and hasty relationship with a devastatingly exciting man had soon soured.

  It never happened overnight, all the bad stuff, Penny reflected as she listened and clamped her mouth tight shut. Ariadne had adored Owen, who was loud and confident and well-known. He was the life and soul of the party; but it was a very particular type of party. He was against the “system”, whatever that really was; he was against “convention” and, it seemed in the end, against working for a living to support his growing family. Instead, he was always “trying to make his way” without “selling out” to “the man” and when things went wrong, it was never, ever his fault.

  And he didn’t blame Ariadne, not in so many words. He criticised her but never in a way that she could argue back – not until her always-fragile self-confidence was so eroded that she would accept and agree with anything that he said to her, or about her. It had taken years but she had been hollowed out from the inside.

  Penny found some of it hard to understand. Surely, her self-confident mind wanted to scream, when a man treats you badly, you leave? Ariadne was describing something much more subtle, though. She had never been an outgoing woman, and at first Owen had made her feel good. Oh, he’d offered little hints and tips, of course: “Wear that skirt, it suits you better” or “Maybe don’t have that cake, my love, as you’d be unhappy if you got fat.”

  The little “hints” chipped away at her thin self-confidence until Ariadne was helpless without him, reliant on him, trusting him. So when he told her she was ugly, or lazy, or stupid, she knew - she thought she knew - that he was only saying those things for her own good. He wanted to help. He had her best interests at heart.

  To further “help” her, he took control of the finances. And the day to day activities. And their leisure time. And … well, everything. What they ate, what they wore, who they saw.

  It was for their own good. Didn’t he love them well!

  It was painful for Penny to listen to. But not as painful as living through it, she admonished herself. She began to see how Ariadne had been worn down, hollowed out, scraped clean of her own sense of personality, left empty and helpless and depressed and full of self-loathing, thinking that she deserved the myriad petty cruelties heaped upon her every day.

  But when he started on the children, with words and then, so soon, the threat of more, it had flipped a switch. Ariadne packed everything into bags, and taken what little money she’d hidden away, and put them all into a taxi, and left. She had no self-esteem left to think that she, herself, was worth taking care of; but she would always, always protect her children.

  Cath nodded and listened, and the kids nestled closer to one another, and Kali rumbled away without judgment or comment. Ariadne’s fingers wove into Kali’s thick black fur as she spoke, her head bowed.

  I will kill him, Penny thought, and remembered the other deaths that had happened in the sleepy Lincolnshire town. And I can learn from their mistakes and maybe I would not be caught. I could…

  She pushed the tempting thought aside. It was the idle chatter of a mind that desperately wanted to latch on to a solution. She wanted to make things right, for her younger sister, and her annoying, loveable kids. Ariadne had three children, but the eldest, Star, was a sensible eighteen year old woman living in a shared house in Nottingham. She’d been the “mother” of the group, as far as Penny could tell; without her, they seemed to rely on young Wolf to be the voice of reason.

  “You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do,” Cath was repeating, now that Ariadne had come to the end of her tale. Destiny had returned, and was perching on the arm of the sofa. Wolf was resting his head on his knees, looking thoughtful.

  “I don’t think he should be allowed to live near us,” he said. “Because of mum. I want to stay with mum, and he should keep away. Mum’s happier now. So we don’t need him.”

  Ariadne wiped away tears and snot, and managed a small smile. “Bless you. But he is your dad.”

  Wolf snorted, and spoke firmly. “Technically, yes. But a real dad is the man who’s there for you.”

  Penny resisted the urge to fling herself at the young boy and hug him.

  Ariadne looked at Cath. “He’s got rights, though, hasn’t he? Power, I mean, over the kids.”

  “I would like to put you in touch with our specialist team,” Cath said. “I hope you don’t think I’m passing the buck, but I don’t want to give you the wrong information. May I?”

  Wolf and Destiny were nodding enthusiastically, and Ariadne lowered her gaze. “Okay.”

  It was something, at least. Penny was suddenly aware of a great knot of tension that had been sitting between her shoulder blades. It began to lift and unwind. How tense had she become while waiting for Ariadne to reach out for help? At last, things were going to get better.

  Cath’s mobile phone began to sing out with a cacophony of birdsong. She grimaced and wrestled it from her pocket, saying, “Sorry, yeah, that ringtone was supposed to be relaxing and unobtrusive … it’s all a bit ‘massacre at the zoo.’ Ah, excuse me. I’ve got to take this.”

  She hauled herself to her feet, her phone clamped to her ear, and she made her way into the kitchen for some privacy. No one spoke, and Cath was back in the room within moments.

  Everyone stared at her.

  Cath’s face was white, with pink blotches on her cheeks. With stunned eyes, at odds with her professional, clipped voice, she said formally, “Mrs Jones. Ariadne. Can you come into the kitchen for a moment, please?”

  Ariadne couldn’t stand up. She said, “What is it?”

  “Please, I need to talk to you privately.”

  Wolf and Destiny were at Ariadne’s side. “It’s okay, mum.”

  Cath regarded them all with a terrible expression of pain. Penny felt the inevitable coming but it was still shocking as Cath said, “I am so sorry. Your husband has been found dead.”

  And before anyone else could comment, Penny said, “No. Oh, no! I’ve missed my chance to kill him myself!”

  Chapter Two

  Cath’s mouth dropped open. She closed it again, and frowned.

  She didn’t need to speak.

  Penny looked at the two children who had just lost a father, and her sister who had just lost a husband, and wanted to crawl into a small hole and flagellate herself with whips. Spiky ones. What was wrong with her? “Oh, Ariadne. Wolf, Destiny, I am so sorry.” She shook her head. There was nothing else she could say to explain herself, was there? There was no elegant way forward.

  Wolf simply shrugged. He was pale, but he got to his feet and bent down to his mum, helping her to stand. He hugged her tightly.

  Ariadne was making a sound halfway between snorting and laughing. “I just feel relief. I’m a terrible person. Oh goodness, I am an awful person to think that. How could I? I …”

  “You’re not a terrible person,” Cath said firmly, shooting Penny a look that spoke volumes about what sort of person Cath currently thought Penny was. “You’re in shock.”

  “What happened?” Destiny asked in a small voice.

  “He’s been found near the van he was living in,” Cath said. “I’m off there now and as soon as I know anything more, I’ll report back. Um, I don’t need to say this, I expect, but don’t go anywhere, all right?”

  “I need to come,” Ariadne said.

  Penny put out her hand. “No, you stay here. We’ll let you know…”

  “We?” Cath said.

  “I am coming,” Ariadne repeated, “and I will raise all manner of trouble if I cannot. I need to see.”

  Penny saw her chance. “I understand,” she said. “Don’t you, Cath? But you can’t go on your own. I’ll come, just to support you.�
��

  “You are so transparent,” Cath grumbled.

  “Go on, mum,” Destiny said, sounding more grown up with each sentence that she uttered. “I’ll look after Wolf.” He sighed and she kicked his ankle. “Shut up,” she said, pre-emptively.

  There was no further argument. Cath flung her hands into the air, and said, “I can’t imagine you will see him, because it will be all closed off, but come along then.”

  She whirled out of the door, followed by Penny and Ariadne.

  * * * *

  The road that led away from town was quiet at this time in the evening, and the lighter nights of summer were still clinging on. East of Upper Glenfield lay the flat, broad Fens. It was the very heart of English agriculture, with hundred-acre fields teeming with crops that thrived in the rich black peaty soil. Glenfield was on the edge between the flatlands and the rising hills of the Lincolnshire Wolds behind them, to the west.

  Cath drove, and the two sisters sat in the back. Penny was looking to the left, and saw the posh hotel and conference centre perched on a small hill. It was set back from the road, and built in the warm yellow limestone that had been quarried not too far away, at Barnack. This hotel was where her close friend Drew did most of his work as a freelance outdoor leader. He was also running sessions at a few local schools, but it was corporate work that paid the most.

  “What’s all that?” Ariadne said in shock, and Penny turned to the right to see what she was looking at. She remembered that Ariadne hadn’t been out this way before. She’d avoiding the particular area east of the town, for obvious reasons.

  “It’s a protest camp. The protestors are trying to stop some housing being built there,” Cath explained. “Hang on. Here we are…”

  They drove past the ragged muddle of tents and trailers, to where a number of police vehicles were sitting in an equally untidy arrangement. Ariadne sucked in her breath when she saw Owen’s battered orange van parked up on the grassy verge. Penny reached out and gripped her sister’s hand.