promise but, while he slept that night, someone had come into his room and suffocated him. Who is still alive who would kill to protect the Hastings name?
And who else might they kill?
CHAPTER 29
All in all, Ruth is relieved to go to work on Monday morning. A policeman returned her car late on Sunday night and, by then, a lot of the snow had melted. During Sunday evening, as she and Tatjana watched TV, huge chunks of snow kept falling off her roof. When she went to bed, early because she was exhausted, she could see dark patches appearing in the Saltmarsh and the tops of the reeds emerging from the blanket of whiteness.
Monday morning is bright, almost spring-like. As she drives to work, the roads are clear, the snow remaining only as dirty sludge in the gutters. The university grounds are still white though. A huge snowman draped in a UNN scarf stands at the entrance to the Natural Sciences block but, as Ruth passes, its head falls forward, like a deposed tyrant. Soon all the snow will disappear, like a dream of winter. That’s what Saturday night must be, Ruth tells herself sternly, a dream. Now she must get on with real life. She sighs, climbing the stairs to the archaeology corridor.
She has a meeting with the Field Team at ten. Trace isn’t there but Ted, Craig and Steve squash into Ruth’s tiny office and Ruth tells them briefly about the discovery of the film. The team are still employed by the university on their erosion survey but Ruth feels she needs to keep them updated as they were the ones that found the bodies in the first place. She has agreed with Nelson that she won’t go into any detail, will just say that new evidence has emerged. She can’t say how the film was found, either, though naturally the archaeologists are intrigued. Ted, in particular, keeps asking very awkward questions. ‘How come this film has turned up after seventy-odd years? Who were the men anyway? That Dieter bloke said they were German. Have you any idea who killed them?’
‘I can’t tell you any more,’ Ruth keeps saying. ‘It’s confidential. The police are still investigating.’
‘Are they investigating Dieter’s death?’ asks Ted. ‘Looks pretty suspicious to me.’
‘I really can’t say.’
Craig comes to her rescue by asking about Operation Lucifer. With relief, Ruth describes the explosive trail laid along the North Norfolk coast, the fire ships, the barrels of gun cotton.
‘We’ll get down there this morning and have another look around,’ says Ted. ‘We’ve still got a few miles of coast to go.’
‘Well, be careful,’ says Ruth. ‘Some of the explosives may still be primed.’
Her whole life, she thinks, as the door closes behind the three men, seems suddenly to be full of unexploded bombs. Sure enough, before the Field Team have clumped to the end of the corridor, Phil appears, smiling engagingly.
‘Can I have a word, Ruth?’
‘I’ve got a tutorial in an hour.’
‘It’ll only take a minute.’
Phil sits opposite, crinkling his eyes in what Shona probably tells him is an attractive way.
‘What about that snow, eh? Shona and I took the boys sledging. Great fun.’
‘It must have been.’
‘What was New Road like? Must have been hellish, out there in the back of beyond.’
‘The snow was fairly deep on Saturday. It had cleared by this morning.’
‘Shona tells me you’ve been making some exciting discoveries.’
Ruth curses herself for telling Shona about the lighthouse trip. She’d only done it because she wanted Shona to babysit.
‘Yes. We’ve found some new evidence about the bodies found at Broughton Sea’s End.’
Phil cocks his head on one side, inviting her to say more.
‘I’m not sure how much I can tell you,’ says Ruth awkwardly. ‘It’s a police matter.’
‘Oh, come on, Ruth. I’m your head of department.’
This is true. But it’s also true that Ruth is now seconded to the Serious Crimes Unit, part of the police team. She has a foot in both camps and the ground between has suddenly become a minefield.
‘Dieter Eckhart, poor chap.’ Phil ducks his head piously. ‘He said the bodies were German.’
‘Yes, we’re pretty sure that they were German soldiers. The oxygen isotope analysis points that way.’
‘Do you know how they were killed?’
‘They were shot.’
Phil’s eyes widen. ‘By the British?’
‘We have a statement to that effect.’
‘A statement? From whom?’
‘I don’t think I can say.’
Phil changes tack. ‘What about Eckhart’s death? There are a lot of rumours floating around.’
‘The police are investigating.’
‘Do they think it was murder?’
‘I can’t say.’
‘They do then.’
Ruth says nothing, and after loitering maddeningly for a few minutes Phil drifts away.
Monday is a busy teaching day for Ruth. She has another tutorial at two. She has a quick sandwich in the canteen and escapes to her office to prepare, treading warily as she passes Phil’s open door. She doesn’t want to get trapped into giving anything else away.
She is just finishing her sandwich and reading about bone disease in preparation for her students, when the phone rings. It’s Craig. He and Ted have found a boat on the beach just beyond Broughton. It looks old. Could it be one of the fire ships she was mentioning? Does she want to come and have a look?
Ruth does want to, very much. She longs to escape from the university and do some real archaeology, examine a piece of evidence, feel the sun and wind on her face. But even if she leaves straight after her tutorial she still won’t be back in time to pick up Kate at five. Sandra probably wouldn’t mind keeping her an hour longer, or maybe Tatjana would go and pick her up? Tatjana’s conference has finished and she was just saying that morning that she hadn’t anything to do today. She leaves tomorrow, her bags are packed and she’s done all the touristy things in King’s Lynn and Norwich. Ruth has avoided asking Tatjana to have anything to do with Kate but surely she won’t mind this one little favour. After all, Ruth has had her to stay for nearly three weeks.
She rings Tatjana on her mobile. She hadn’t expected it to be difficult, had even expected Tatjana to interrupt and offer to get Kate, but Tatjana hears her out in silence. Ruth stammers and repeats herself. She remembers how much she hates asking for favours. When she has talked herself to a standstill, Tatjana says, ‘Let me get this straight. You want me to pick up your daughter?’
Ruth does not like the way she says ‘your daughter’.
‘Yes,’ she mutters.
‘Just because you can’t be bothered?’
‘No! It’s not that. It’s just that Craig has found something which might be interesting…’
‘Interesting but not vital. There’s no necessity for you to go today is there?’
‘No but…’
‘You expect us all to run round after you, don’t you?’ Tatjana is laughing but her voice does not sound amused. ‘Shona, me, Judy. We all have to look after your baby because you’re too busy swanning around with Detective Inspector Nelson, pretending to solve crimes. That’s not your job, Ruth. Your job is being a mother.’
‘My job is being an archaeologist.’
‘Yes, right.’ Tatjana laughs again. ‘How is that going, Ruth? How many papers have you written? Where’s that book you were always going to write? It didn’t happen, did it?’
‘I’ve been-’
‘Busy? Yes, busy having a baby without a father.’
Ruth is speechless. This is the sort of thing her mother says. Not Tatjana, who is meant to be her friend.
