‘With some of my former colleagues, you might be surprised. But you’re right. Historical research isn’t intuition, it’s detection.’
‘I heard you say that on the telly, so it must be true,’ she mocked. ‘All I can say is that the original investigation turned up nothing that exonerated Barrie Gilpin. Not a thing.’
‘Guilty till proved innocent, then?’
‘I didn’t say that.’ She sighed. ‘Listen, I didn’t mean to be glib about the loose ends after Barrie’s body was found. They bothered me, just as they bothered your father.’
‘He knew the real Barrie. He’d played with him, even performed a few magic tricks, much to old Ma Gilpin’s disapproval. I can’t believe he saw Barrie as a murderer. So — why not review the old file?’
She nibbled at her lower lip. ‘All right, I’ll tell you something. In strict confidence, okay?’
‘I’ll respect it.’
‘If you’re your father’s son, I’m sure you will. Mind you, this won’t stay confidential for long. If I know the Lakes and the way people talk, it’ll be common knowledge by this time tomorrow. The Gabrielle Anders case is one of those we’re taking a second look at. Starting this afternoon, we’ll be talking to some of the people who gave statements, seeing whether memories can be jogged.’
‘That’s good news.’
‘I don’t suppose everyone we speak to will be quite so positive.’
‘But if it helps the truth to come out…’
‘Daniel,’ she interrupted. ‘Just be clear about this. One thing you learn in my job is that the truth is usually the last thing people want to emerge. Guilty or innocent, it doesn’t matter. Everyone has something to hide.’
‘Everyone?’
For a moment he thought she was about to say something else, but instead she stood up and brushed droplets of rain from her coat. ‘I’d better go.’
He scrambled to his feet. ‘Thanks for your time. I appreciate it.’
She offered her hand. Her flesh was cold. As they shook, another question struck him.
‘Hannah.’ Using her first name felt strangely intimate. ‘Why did you ask if I’d been making waves?’
She opened her mouth and he thought: she’s about to say no particular reason and it will be a lie. This woman doesn’t ask questions without reason.
But she paused and seemed to have second thoughts. ‘Daniel, I’m already running late. I’m sorry, you wanted me to tell you more about your father. Maybe one of these days we can talk again.’
‘I’d like that.’ He took a slip of paper from his pocket and scribbled two numbers on it. ‘Call me any time at the cottage or on my mobile.’
She didn’t reply, but gave a quick nod and walked swiftly away towards the bridge. He watched her go, while the questions she hadn’t answered swirled across his mind like ripples on the river.
Chapter Fourteen
‘Nipped out to do a bit of shopping, then, ma’am?’ Nick Lowther asked.
He was kicking his heels outside the door to Hannah’s office, looking for all the world like a sardonic teenager. A creased sheet of A4 was in his hand. Somehow, what would have been insubordination from anyone else she found acceptable from Nick. In the job, you had to trust someone and he’d never let her down. Feigning to cuff his ear, she waved him to follow her into the room.
‘If you must know, I’ve been talking to someone with a personal interest in the Anders killing.’
‘I wondered where you were hurrying off to. You seemed rather cloak and dagger about it.’
Hanging her coat on the hook, she hoped she wasn’t blushing. She always worried that her cheeks reddened easily, even when she had nothing to be embarrassed about. Nick often had that effect on her. He might get above himself sometimes, but he was scarily perceptive. So far she hadn’t told anyone that she’d arranged to meet Daniel Kind. It had taken long enough for the rumours to fade about her and Ben. Neither of them had ever done anything to encourage gossip that they were having an affair but that made no difference. Nobody enjoyed indulging in wild guesswork more than supposedly trained detectives — not when it came to prurient speculation about other people’s sex lives. Not that Nick would have given her any grief. Perhaps she should have confided in him earlier, but if Daniel had proved a waste of time, what would have been the point?
‘I talked to Ben Kind’s son. Daniel, the historian, who’s moved into Tarn Cottage.’
Nick’s face was as inscrutable as though they were on opposite sides of the table in an interview room. How easy it was to stumble into the trap of sounding guilty and defensive; just as well there’d been nothing incriminating about her encounter with Daniel.
‘What’s he like?’
‘All right,’ she said, groping for the right words. He wasn’t bad looking, but that was irrelevant. ‘Pretty bright, I’d say.’
‘That’s a relief, ma’am. We’d hate to think that Oxford’s standards are in decline, wouldn’t we?’
‘That’s your quota of sarky backchat used up for the week,’ she said. ‘In one way he reminds me of his father. Ben was never content with obvious explanations.’
‘Sometimes the obvious explanation is right.’
‘Yes, Ben could be a pain,’ she said with a grin. ‘Daniel Kind isn’t as tough, but I’d guess he’s no pushover. Once he starts something, I don’t believe he’d give up easily.’
She gave him a quick run-through of the conversation with Daniel. ‘I’m keeping an open mind about whether there’s a connection between his arrival and the call we had about Gilpin. He’s fascinated by the case and my guess is that he’s not hidden it when he’s been talking to people in Brack. Maybe something he’s said caused that woman to call. I suppose she still hasn’t rung back?’
He passed her the sheet of paper. ‘You suppose wrong, ma’am. Which is precisely why I was trying to find you.’
She scanned the note. This time Linz had answered the phone. In large, voluptuous handwriting she’d recorded the brief conversation. The woman had identified herself as having rung earlier and then said that she had made a mistake.
‘I didn’t mean to cause any trouble, I just got confused. I wouldn’t want you to waste any more time. That’s all. Better let sleeping dogs lie. It’ s right, what people said at the time. Barrie Gilpin did kill the girl, must have done. I’m so sorry. Please forget what I said before. Please. Goodbye.’
She’d rung off before Linz could put a question.
Hannah sighed. ‘Thanks a million, whoever you are. What do you make of it?’
‘According to Linz, she sounded panicky. Chances are, she’s a neurotic with time on her hands.’
‘Or someone has leaned on her. The update briefing is at twelve. Let’s see where we’re up to before you and I set off for Brack.’
‘Finally, the Gabrielle Anders murder.’ Hannah pointed to the scrawled agenda on the whiteboard. ‘We don’t have enough material to justify a full-scale review. DNA hasn’t thrown up any new leads. But there has been a development that makes it worth spending a little time on the case. Linz, can you take us through it?’
Lindsey glanced round at her colleagues. Making sure that she had everyone’s attention, Hannah thought: that always mattered to her. So far she’d had less than her customary share of the lime-light. The other pair of DCs were working with Les Bryant on the review that was progressing fastest, an inquiry into a series of rapes coupled with the attempted murder of a prostitute. The crimes had been committed in Workington, Whitehaven and Cleator Moor, and an interesting new name had come into the frame. The only snag was that it belonged to someone who had left Britain for Australia six years back.
‘Mobile switched off, Gul?’ Linz asked. ‘Or are you still waiting for hot news from the Chief Constable?’
Everyone laughed; even Gul mustered a sheepish smirk. His phone-dependency was a standing joke and he took at least one allegedly urgent call in the course of every briefing. The rest of the team reckoned it was less to do with his receiving a flood of vital information than with trying to polish his image for Linz’s benefit. The ace detective, with a range of contacts the envy of the Cumbria Constabulary. Hannah was sure that Linz, like everyone
