The Serpent Pool

But the idea that Marc might be responsible for three deaths made no sense. She’d lived with him, slept with him, she believed with all her heart that he was incapable of violence. No doubt he’d revelled in Bethany’s admiration. As for Saffell and Wagg, how absurd to imagine that he’d bite the hands that fed him, far less cut them off for ever.

‘What makes you think the murderer is a man?’

‘The level of cruelty, I suppose.’ Daniel ticked the names off on his fingers. ‘Bethany, tied up so that her head could be put beneath the water. George, bound so that he couldn’t escape being roasted alive. Stuart, crippled and then dumped down a well hole so that he froze to death.’

‘Women can be crueller than men, I think.’

‘When provoked?’

She gave a tight smile. ‘Men can be very provocative.’

‘It would take muscle power to lift that metal cover over the well,’ he mused. ‘Though a strong woman could do it.’

‘Your father always warned me against making assumptions based on stereotypes. Not a matter of political correctness, just good police work. You can’t presume that Stuart was murdered by a man.’

‘I stand corrected,’ he said, so meekly that she had to laugh.

‘That’s one difference between you and Ben. He never admitted he was wrong.’

‘Yeah, I remember.’

‘Not that he was often wrong. He decided early on that someone had murdered Bethany. It hurt him that he never managed to give her justice.’

‘Suppose the same person killed George and Stuart. Why the six years of inactivity? Hardly the pattern of a conventional serial crime.’

‘You’re an expert in serial crimes?’

‘Everyone is nowadays. Have you not seen the television schedules?’

‘No time for telly, but of course, you have a point. The time gap is a puzzle.’

‘There must be an explanation.’

‘The simplest being that the literature link is coincidental, and Bethany’s death has nothing to do with the other two.’

‘Is that what you think?’

He sounded like a crestfallen teenager. It took an effort of will not to squeeze his hand and reassure him that his theory was plausible. Even though she couldn’t see where it took the investigation.

‘To tell you God’s honest truth, Daniel, I’m not sure what to think.’

‘Doesn’t sound like you, ma’am.’

Out of nowhere, DS Greg Wharf had appeared at her elbow, twinkling like a genie unwilling to wait for a lamp to be rubbed. His breath smelt of beer and his expensive teeth formed a smile bright with lascivious triumph as his gaze flicked from Hannah to Daniel and back again. Anyone would think he’d caught them in flagrante.

A tidal wave of embarrassment swept through her. For a moment, she thought she was going to throw up all over his nice new lambswool jersey.

She managed a curt nod, not trusting herself to speak.

‘This your local, ma’am? First time here for me. Cosy, innit?’ Greg squatted on his haunches, relishing her discomfiture. ‘The bloke next door found out I like a good quiz and asked me along. Our team lost, the other lot had a couple of ringers — one of them was last year’s Brain of Cumbria. No worries, it’s all a bit of fun.’

He beamed at Daniel and offered his hand. ‘Greg Wharf. I’m lucky enough to be a member of DCI Scarlett’s team. First week, and so far I’m loving every minute.’

Sarky bastard. Hannah pictured him regaling the lads back at Divisional HQ with the story of how he’d chanced upon the DCI, playing away from home. He’d probably attribute it to good bobbying. Following his nose.

‘Daniel Kind.’

‘I recognised the face. Seen you on television, haven’t I?’ A wolfish grin. ‘You’re the son of the detective?’

‘You remember my father?’

‘We never met, but I’ve not been in this neck of the woods for long, and even I have heard about Ben Kind. You worked for him, didn’t you, ma’am?’

Hannah nodded, not wanting to guess what Greg had heard about her and Ben. She stole a glance at Daniel. His face gave nothing away.

‘You’ve heard about the lawyer who was found dead this afternoon, Sergeant?’

‘Stuart Wagg? It’s-’

‘My sister and I found his body,’ Daniel interrupted swiftly. ‘DCI Scarlett wanted to ask me a few questions, and naturally, I’m glad to help. She seems to believe there may be some tie-up with a cold case she’s investigating.’

Hannah found her voice. ‘We’re almost done, thanks, Greg; we have a joint briefing tomorrow with DCI Larter’s team. Nine o’clock.’

Wharf scrambled to his feet. She saw he was itching to ask why their inquiry was to be joined with Fern’s. But in front of Daniel, he could not talk shop.

‘Good to meet you, Mr Kind.’ His eyebrows lifted; he just couldn’t help himself, Hannah thought. ‘See you in the morning, ma’am.’

Turning on his heel, he blew a kiss towards a skinny girl with a sunbed tan and a skirt slit to her thighs. Her name was Millie, and she was a clerk from Payroll at Divisional HQ. Say what you liked about bloody Greg Wharf, he was a fast worker.

Daniel leant back in his seat and expelled a breath.

‘Don’t worry about him.’

‘Who says I’m worried?’ she said tightly. ‘Greg’s a stirrer, but you handled him perfectly. All those hours in front of lecture audiences and television cameras were well spent. Of course, a decent DCI shouldn’t be fazed by a subordinate turning up out of the blue.’

‘You have nothing to be fazed about.’ Something made her say, ‘I’ll let you in on a secret.’

He leant towards her, his expression unreadable.

‘Go on, then.’

‘When I worked with your dad, there was a bit of banter about the pair of us.’

‘Banter?’

‘Young woman, older man, you can fill in the blanks. The canteen culture thrives on gossip, preferably salacious. Of course, it was all made up. There was never anything personal between Ben and me. No relationship, I mean.’

‘He rated you as a detective. And he liked you.’

‘The feeling was mutual. But he never laid a finger on me.’

He checked his watch. Reluctantly, she hoped. But the conversation was straying into dangerous territory.

‘Marc will wonder what is keeping you.’

‘He won’t wait up.’

‘No?’ He frowned, but if he meant to say More fool him, he changed his mind. ‘I’d better let you go, all the same. Writing a book is a perfect excuse for not working office hours, but I suppose you’ll be up at the crack of dawn. Let me see you to your car.’

Outside, flecks of snow had begun to stick on the ground. The roads would be icy in the morning. When they reached the cars, he stopped in his tracks. The bright light of a security lamp illuminated his face, but she couldn’t see what was in his mind. She murmured goodnight and grasped the door handle. For a moment, he was motionless. Then a strange look came into his eyes and, in a smooth, swift movement, he bent forward and kissed her hard, full on the lips.

‘Goodnight, Hannah.’

He strode away and was starting up his car before she’d drawn breath. She sat in the driver’s seat, not