Chapter Forty-Nine
The death of the Hearst twins at the bottom of Ladram Bay during what was described as a ‘police operation’ caught the imagination of the town.
Edward’s feet had barely touched the ground since the nightmare had played out at his house, and he had been desperate to see Kim.
But the police had urged them not to be in touch with each other at all while their statements were taken, as defence barristers would seize on that in court. If there was a court case.
Since that evening, he had rung Kim only twice. Her reply simultaneously confused him and put his mind at rest:
I’m gonna be a bit private for a few days. I know you’ll understand.
It was strange, having the full story and being able to say so little on air.
Jordan Callintree had got all the information and begged Edward to give out only the broadest details – not to say, for example, that the Hearst twins had fallen from his own garden or what the circumstances of their final hours were.
No one anywhere connected the Hearst deaths with the Toppings crash or the Wrigley murder.
A huge memorial was planned for them in Exeter Cathedral, which made Edward nauseous.
Wendy Wrigley was still missing. Edward understood that Jordan needed to be the one to solve it, and they agreed that Jordan would present the solution as a scoop on Edward’s show.
Aspinall was getting jumpy but Edward no longer cared.
He did his nightly programmes. The calls were on the vandalism of six ‘Branscombe in Bloom’ flowerbeds and the unlikely proposal to reopen Sidmouth Train Station, which had been closed in the Sixties and was now a tyre-fitting business.
‘How can you have a train station without rails?’ asked one listener, pointing out that the old railway line to Ottery St Mary and Tipton St John, laid in the 1880s, was now mainly a footpath.
There was only one public development in the pizza parlour case.
The council, still considering the whole incident a mystery, proposed renaming a street in the centre of Sidmouth ‘Nina Lopez Alley’.
They faced a backlash because the cobbled alley in question was not an attractive route.
It ran down the side of Boots to the swimming centre car park and smelled when it rained.
A middle-aged man rang Edward’s show to say, ‘We knew our council couldn’t run a tap. Now this.’
Edward found himself wondering how the Hearst/Wrigley network had operated.
They could not advertise. Their daily work must have connected them with dozens of terminally ill patients.
Perhaps Jonathan Wrigley went along with it – until money entered the equation.
No wonder that enormous couple, the Boyds, were angry with Edward.
Lily, in and out of her wheelchair, always in pain, had been promised release; and then the motorbike accident triggered so many questions that the operation was shelved.
The Boyds blamed Edward for all the questions.
Fair enough. Poor, lost souls. In a way they were victims of the gang too.
And yes, they had definitely stopped him falling from the cliff.
The crazed stamping he would have to forgive.
He had only one unanswered question now: why was Jonathan Wrigley in a white suit that day?
He imagined his friend Hubert persuading him to walk in the forest, bring the crossbow, kill some rabbits or just use it for target practice.
But surely he would not have worn a white suit at Hubert’s request?
It was an odd thing to go walking in. Yet it helped the Hearsts, because it meant Wrigley was seen from the air and his death timed almost to the minute.
Perhaps at the start Jonathan Wrigley and the Hearsts were motivated by compassion for those poor, hurting people, sick and lonely in big rural houses or rattling around in council flats, aware of their dementia or with tumours fit to burst. Bone cancer, Parkinson’s, Motor Neurone Disease, Huntington’s.
Would this case ever get to court, if Wendy Wrigley was ever found?
He imagined the expressions on the faces of twelve jurors being asked to understand what on earth it was the brothers had done with a centrifuge and Actinium from their radiotherapy unit to create the perfect murder weapon: like a disappearing dagger.
He booked himself an appointment at the audiologist to get a new hearing aid.
‘What happened to the last one, sir?’
It was stamped on by a man with a New York City cop outfit who thought I’d stopped his wife dying. No, he wouldn’t trouble them with that.
‘Um, a cat ate it,’ Edward lied.
‘We can clean it if—’
‘No, no thank you. I couldn’t do that.’ As the hearing tests got underway, he felt a text arrive and hoped it was Kim.
The audiologist, a kind woman called Sandy, said: ‘That buzzing might mess up our readings. Do you want to look at the message and start the test again?’
‘Could I? It’s a friend I’ve been worried about.’
But it was not Kim. Just Stevie saying, ‘Call me.’
‘Do you mind?’ asked Edward. ‘I’m worried it might be urgent.’
The audiologist said, ‘My mum and dad listen to your show every night so they’d be very upset if I got in the way.’
He asked Stevie: ‘What’s up?’
‘Kim.’
‘What?’
‘Have you heard from her?’
‘No.’
‘I went around,’ said Stevie. ‘She behaved so weirdly. Sent me away.’
‘What? You two are mates!’
‘I wondered about trauma.’
‘I’m at the hearing aid place. Let me come straight to you after that.’
An hour later, he was at the vicarage. Stevie’s parents were out. He called Kim and put the phone on speaker as it rang.
‘She won’t pick up.’
Just as Stevie said it, Kim answered with a strained ‘Hello?’
‘A week! That’s the longest time we haven’t spoken for in recent history.’
‘I’m sorry. Feel free to have a go.’
Steve chimed in. ‘I’m here too.’
‘Hi Stevie.’
‘I wouldn’t have a go, Kim. You sent me a text and so I knew you hadn’t been abducted or, I don’t know, exploded.’
‘Exploded? Have you had a series of exploding girlfriends?’
‘Not in that way, no.’
Stevie laughed. ‘We were worried for you. That was traumatic.’
‘For you too, Stevie, with your brilliant lasers. But it’s not that. And I can’t say what it is. I just can’t tell you. Not on a phone. Not by text.’
Edward asked, ‘In person?’
‘Watch your TV in about ten minutes.’
‘He’s at my house,’ said Stevie.
‘Put the news on.’
The phone connection beeped and she was gone.
Edward made a cup of tea and put the news channel on.
It was bang on eleven in the morning. The graphics fired.
The volume was low – or was that just the missing hearing aid?
– and as Stevie turned it up, a newsreader with large earrings and eyebrows like charcoal strokes fixed her gaze on him and talked about Ukraine.
Was this the item? He turned on his phone and noted the stories.
Russia accused of moving further into Donbas.
Then gambling: two biggest British firms report record profits.
Cardiff Council refuses to change 20 mph limits.
A London drugs gang smashed, suspects arrested.
Mugshots of a thin Asian woman on the left, a well-groomed blond man with a needy expression on the right.
Then sport, then weather. Edward and Stevie exchanged mystified glances. Edward texted Kim.
Didn’t see it.
She rang straight back. ‘Don’t text, okay?’
‘But—’
‘Don’t text, don’t ring. Come to mine.’
He took his moped. Stevie sat on the back.
He had never had a pillion passenger before, and the bike sounded as if it was about to break in two.
In the town centre, Stevie realized she would get prosecuted for not having a helmet and – before the bike collapsed – she got off.
She said she had to buy some groceries, which to Edward sounded like an excuse.
At Kim’s door, he rang the bell. She opened it with a warm smile. He was struck by her beauty and how much he had missed her, even just for this week. She stood in jeans and a bright white shirt, straightening her back as if she was trying to be as tall as him when she reached up to kiss him.
‘If you’re being held hostage,’ he whispered, ‘whisper the name of your favourite flavour crisps.’
‘Cheese and onion.’
He affected the air of a man suddenly relaxing, mock-wiping his brow. ‘Phew.’
‘Where is Stevie?’
‘In town. I tried to get her here but the bike wouldn’t take it.’
‘Our heroine. Our little crimefighter.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Edward. He made to move through the doorway, but Kim blocked him. She threw her arms around Edward and held her body up against his. She whispered, ‘Don’t speak too loudly. I’m not joking. Discreet please.’ She detached herself and brought him inside.
‘Did you see the news?’ she whispered.
‘Why are we speaking so quietly? I have trouble hearing.’
‘I’ve done something I don’t want anyone to know about. Did you see the news?’
‘Yes I did.’ He reached for his phone. ‘I noted down the items.’ His voice kept adjusting to its normal level; he kept lowering it again. ‘Russia, gambling, speeding, drugs. Did I miss one?’
‘Oh, I’m forgetting. You were under the car.’
Edward peered at Kim. She led him to her bedroom.
He felt his heart beat a little quicker as if he was a teenager again.
But it was not the double bed they were heading for.
They passed it and she opened the French windows.
‘Toss your phone like me.’ She threw hers onto the bed cover.
He did the same. ‘I never know what they pick up.’
‘Bloody hell,’ he said, ‘I feel like I’m presenting a radio programme where the headphones don’t work. I can’t understand what you’re doing.’
‘The drugs story. The couple.’ The French windows led onto the tiniest of balconies, and she was leaning as far out as she could, her face close to his.
‘Yes?’
‘You didn’t see their faces. You only saw their feet.’
It was starting to dawn on him. On the bed, her phone started to vibrate.
‘You want to take that?’
‘It’s my mum.’
‘How do you know?’
‘You’ll find out.’
‘So your customers have been arrested?’
‘Arrested two days ago, I think, and now charged.’
He looked at her, wondering if he was beginning to understand.
‘Do you remember what you heard her say?’
‘Something about parachutes.’
‘And parachute is slang for …’ She moved in so close to him that her lips touched his ear and he felt her breath as the wind. ‘Crystal meth.’
‘Crys—’ She placed a forefinger across his lips. ‘How did the police get them?’
‘I wonder,’ she asked. They withdrew back into the bedroom. She locked the French windows. ‘I’ll leave you thinking about that. Not another word, please.’
‘Your mum’s calling again.’
‘She’s calling you now, look.’
Their phones had gradually slid closer to each other on the duvet, and Kim was right. It was now Edward’s phone that was flashing with Barbara’s name. He moved to pick it up, then looked at Kim to check. But she made no objection.
‘Hello?’
‘Edward? I’m so sorry to call. You know I don’t make a habit of it. I should probably call more often, ha. Look. I can’t find Kimb—’
Kim took the phone, waved an apologetic hand to Edward, and said: ‘I’m here Mum. What’s happened?’ She pressed the speaker button and the reply came out.
‘Something strange.’
‘Go on, tell me.’
‘I’ve been sworn to secrecy.’
‘Who swore you?’ Kim asked.
‘It’s an anonymous note on the WhatsApp and it went to everybody. We don’t know what to do.’
‘Don’t tell me about it, Mum.’
‘Why not?’
‘Just best to do what it says.’
‘But you don’t know what it says, darling.’
Edward was frowning.
‘Gotta go, Mum. I guess best to keep it secret, eh?’
Edward opened his mouth to speak, but Kim stepped back slightly and held up her hand like a traffic warden. What on earth was going on?
At the other end of the line, Barbara began: ‘It just says—’
Kim cut her off. ‘Don’t tell me what it says.’
‘You think I should do it?’
‘I think you should do it.’
She hit the red button. ‘Sorry,’ Kim said to Edward, ‘I forgot it was yours.’
‘I feel like I’ve gone through to another dimension. Something tells me your crystal meth couple are connected to that call from your mum. Am I getting warm?’
‘It’s best we don’t talk about it in here. I’m just super-conscious of not being involved with any of this.’
‘Any of what? God, this is like doing The Times crossword upside-down.’
‘I love you by the way. I’m sorry I went missing.’
‘You were in hospital, partly.’ A thought struck Edward. ‘I wonder if that couple were arrested after a tip-off of some sort.’ He looked at Kim piercingly, the faintest smile playing around his lips. ‘A tip-off from an anonymous source, who is simultaneously exotic and practical.’
‘Rules me out,’ said Kim.
‘By the way, the news on the pizza place – it’ll be out soon.’
‘So long as I’m not in it.’
‘I think they have a plan to keep us out of it.’
‘I keep listening, thinking you’re going to reveal it on the radio.’
‘Jordan and I did a deal. Nothing until he makes arrests, and then everything goes to me first.’
‘What does Aspinall say about that? I bet he’s thrilled.’
‘He’s angry at having to wait for something he can’t be told about. He’s always angry.’
‘Is he still going to sack you?’
‘Hope not.’
‘Bloody hell,’ she said, ‘that really would be the icing on the cake.’ Her eyes widened.
He forgot to tell the story. He was suddenly swimming in those pools of green, the smashed-gem green of her eyes, and he saw her lips part. ‘Where did you go to, my lovely?’ he said.
‘Secret places,’ she told him as he removed the belt from her jeans.