‘Who knows? Like I said, I wouldn’t know where to begin to solve this lot,’ Kate said.
Sue was beside herself with excitement when Kate went back to work the following morning.
‘Wow! You actually found the body on the beach! Beats picking up shells any day of the week! Rumour has it he wasn’t only drowned but bludgeoned as well! Someone really didn’t like him much, did they?’
‘Someone certainly didn’t,’ Kate agreed.
‘They’re still awaiting the autopsy report, Dr Ross said,’ Sue continued, ‘but I think it’s a foregone conclusion.’
Kate, looking round the crowded waiting room, didn’t wait to hear about Sue’s foregone conclusion and called in the first patient.
The eighty-year-old woman informed Kate that Billy Grey – Maureen’s errant husband – was almost certainly the killer of both. Why else would he appear out of the woodwork after ten years? she asked. And he was keeping a very low profile, although he’d been seen around. He’d come back for a purpose. And it was the anniversary of the little girl’s death. ‘You mark my words,’ she said.
The second patient wanted a blow-by-blow account of Kate’s gruesome discovery on the beach. What had Kevin looked like? Were his eyes bulging? What was he wearing? Kate stared at the woman in disbelief; his sartorial taste formed the least of her memories.
Later in the morning she was informed that Jess Davey, Kevin’s so-called (long-suffering) girlfriend, was a real bad lot. She’d put it about a bit too, said the young builder who’d been bitten by a stray dog he’d tried to befriend. Jess had had it in for Fenella for years, he said. Well, why wait ten years? Kate wondered. And surely she’d be unlikely to kill Kevin as well if she was so devoted to him?
In the course of her shift Kate was informed of at least six different characters who would have been more than happy to kill one, or both, and by the time she got home, she was more than ready to collapse into the armchair with one of Angie’s high-strength gin and tonics.
‘If you came in the kitchen door you probably wouldn’t have looked at the phone,’ Angie said as she appeared from the summerhouse. ‘It’s buzzing with messages.’
Kate had kicked off her shoes and, for a moment, wondered if she’d bother to check the landline. Probably somebody trying to sell her something, or telling her about some vast amount of money that she hadn’t bothered to claim. Then she thought of Woody. Perhaps he’d left a message and so, wearily, she padded out to the hallway. Anyone she knew well would surely have contacted her on her mobile.
The female voice was high and hysterical.
‘I’m in custody! I’m in bloody custody! And it’s all thanks to you, Kate Palmer, my so-called friend! You told the police about me and Kevin arguing in the graveyard!’ Here, Maureen’s voice broke. ‘They’ve been questioning me all day; they think I killed both of them! I don’t even kill bloody flies! I open the window and push the damn things out! You said you’d help me and I trusted you. So help me now, for God’s sake!’
Kate stood, rooted to the spot, rigid with shock. They’d arrested Maureen! Maureen! How could they? What evidence could they possibly have?
‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ Angie muttered as she came down the stairs into the hall.
‘Listen to this!’ Kate said and played back the message, upping the volume.
‘Oh my God!’ Angie put her hand to her face. ‘What on earth are you going to do?’
‘Well, just for a start, I’m going to visit Maureen,’ Kate said, looking at her watch. ‘I’m sure she’s allowed a visitor and I shall damn well insist.’
‘Oh, Kate.’ Angie put her arm round her sister. ‘But you don’t know for sure that Maureen didn’t kill one or both of them, do you?’
‘I’m certain she didn’t do it. Call it a gut feeling, but I’m not usually wrong, Angie. I realise that now Kevin’s out of the picture, she’s going to be the most likely suspect. But I’m pretty sure that – unless they have something definite on her – they can’t keep her in custody for more than twenty-four hours.’
‘You watch too much crime stuff on TV,’ Angie retorted.
‘It’s a good job that I do. Anyway, I’m going to change into jeans and a sweater and head up to the police station. Wish me luck!’
It was a forty-minute drive to the police station at Launceston and the first thing Kate noticed as she got out of the car was the group of reporters, mostly male, plus a camera crew, all looking bored.
A woman pushed herself forward, stamping out her cigarette as she did so. ‘Are you here in connection with the murders?’ she asked.
Kate wasn’t prepared for this, so thought it best to say nothing.
‘I’m here on a personal matter,’ she muttered, heading towards the door.
‘Are you Kate Palmer?’ the female reporter asked, continuing to follow her.
How does she know my name? Kate was relieved to get inside.
The constable on duty looked about sixteen, complete with acne.
‘I’d like to see Maureen Grey, please,’ Kate asked.
The policeman glanced at her briefly. ‘Visiting’s not allowed,’ he said, ‘sorry.’ He didn’t sound in the slightest bit sorry.
‘Well, is Detective Inspector Forrest on the premises? I’d like to speak to him.’
He looked at her for a little longer. ‘Who’s asking?’
‘My name’s Kate Palmer.’
‘Just a minute.’ He sighed as he picked up the phone. ‘I’ve got a Kate Parker here wants to talk to you, boss.’
‘Kate Palmer.’
‘Kate Palmer,’ he repeated, staring glassily at Kate. Then: ‘Yessir,’ and he replaced the phone. ‘The detective inspector will see you shortly. Take a seat, please.’
Kate continued to stand and was about to study the noticeboard when Woody appeared.
‘Ah, Mrs Palmer,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘Come with me, please.’
‘I’m sorry to bother
