The Whitby Murders (A Yorkshire Murder Mystery) J. Ellis (distant reading TXT) 📖

involved too much explaining. Mark and Maggie had decided on the same approach. They all wanted to put the business behind them and move on.

‘I think at some deep level, she’s still in denial about things. She can’t believe she’s lost two friends, that one killed the other and then committed suicide,’ said Ben. ‘It’s a common reaction to something as traumatic as what we went through.’

‘Yes, and I think she expects her dad to perform magic. Like she’s reverted to being a child. You know, when your parents seemed all powerful?’

‘Wow, this is getting into deep psychology!’ said Jack. ‘But you might be right. I don’t think she would have been like this if her father hadn’t been a detective.’

‘Well, never mind, she’ll get over it,’ said Mark. He looked at his watch. ‘We’ll have to get off soon or we’ll miss the start of the film. What’s everybody doing this weekend? We could meet up and eat somewhere. I could do Sunday.’

‘I’m away this weekend,’ said Jack.

‘I could do Sunday too, preferably evening,’ said Ben.

Mark turned to Maggie, who had been exchanging texts and only half listening. ‘Oh yeah, Sunday evening’s fine. I’m busy Saturday too.’

Oldroyd and Deborah were sitting in the lounge bar in an old pub near the harbour when Andy rang to report back.

‘Hi, sir. Hope you’ve had a good day?’

‘Not bad at all, Andy,’ replied Oldroyd. ‘Things have got exciting up here.’ He told Andy about Elaine Pesku’s escape. ‘I think it all proves that there is indeed more to this case than we initially thought. I’ve suspected it for a long time. Granger’s got a team out searching for Elaine Pesku and added to all that we’ve been for a bracing walk up to the abbey.’

‘Sounds good, sir. I wish I had some good news myself, but I’ve followed up just about everything concerning this group and I can’t say we’ve come up with anything exciting. We’ve only got Maggie Hinton’s employers left, and I’m not optimistic that will throw anything up. The others seem in the clear. To sum up: Jack Ryerson’s alibi for Wednesday was backed up by his lover. Mark Garner admitted that he had a nasty row with Holgate about the plagiarism, but his alibi for the Wednesday, that he was at work, was supported by his employer. Ben Morton seemed a bit of a loner at work, but we couldn’t find anything against him. Holgate was well thought of at his company and nobody could identify any enemies. They thought he got on well with his girlfriend, Barnes. They even said what a great member of the team he was, entertaining them with practical jokes and tricks with knives where he pretended to be dead. I thought that was a touch ironic, you know. The knife he used to stab Barnes was real enough and he was dead all right by the end.’

‘True enough,’ replied Oldroyd. ‘And very dark. Fate has some cruel twists at times.’

‘So, I’m afraid that’s it, sir.’

‘Okay. Well done, and don’t worry. This grafting is all part of the job; sometimes you have to sift through a lot of dross, as it were, before you find the diamond. It looks like things are swinging back to this end. Our main hope now is to capture Pesku and see if we can get her to tell us what’s been going on. She’s definitely involved in some way. You might as well stay there and do your final interview tomorrow. Come back over the weekend.’

‘All right, sir.’ The conversation ended, and Oldroyd hung up the phone.

‘Was that your sergeant again?’ asked Deborah.

‘It was. He sounded disappointed. He’s always so keen to do well and help make progress in a case, but he’s finding that it doesn’t always go the way you’d like it to.’

‘No, that’s the same in many professions.’ Deborah took a drink from a glass of wine and then she sat back in the sofa and sighed. ‘Well, I must say, this is the life. It’s so relaxing to get away for a while and be by the sea. What’s the plan tomorrow? Will you be busy all day?’

‘I’ll have to check in with Alice Granger and see how the hunt for Pesku is going. Other than that, I thought we might pay a visit to the museum in Pannett Park as the weather’s not going to be brilliant. Have you ever been?’

‘No.’

‘Oh, it’s a wonderfully eccentric collection of all kinds of stuff.’

‘Sounds good. I can’t wait.’

Louise answered the door when Steph knocked. It was six o’clock. Julia was still at work.

‘Hi,’ said Steph.

‘Hi. So you want to come in for a minute?’

‘I won’t, if that’s okay? I’ve got to get back home, and I’m pretty knackered. Here’s the key.’ She handed it over to Louise who thanked her. ‘How about meeting up on Saturday for a coffee in town?’

Louise looked uncomfortable and hesitant. ‘Sorry, I can’t. I’ve got to go out to the flat and I’m . . . I’m meeting someone.’

Steph looked at her with concern. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘Yes fine. Well, you know, not really, but I think I’m getting a bit better day by day. Maybe we could meet up next week sometime?’

‘Fine. Okay, then I’ll be off.’

‘Bye for now.’

Steph got back in her car but sat thinking for a moment before she started the engine. There was clearly something Louise was not telling her.

The next day was Friday and Halloween. It dawned quiet and still with heavy, dark clouds settling a gloom over the day.

DC Hampton and his team continued their search for Pesku early in the day. They split up, some searching back alleys and outhouses in the town centre and some going round more suburban areas asking people to be careful about who might be hiding in their garage or shed. A message had gone out on local radio with a description of Pesku and the usual injunction