Unholy Murder Read online

  ‘Lee’s worked for him for a long time, then?’

  ‘Yeah. He was a labourer first and worked his way up to site manager.’

  ‘Did he work on the renovation of the old convent?’ she asked.

  ‘He said he did.’

  ‘What about Dermot?’

  ‘No. This is his first job for the Durhams.’

  ‘Did Lee say he was going to phone Mr Durham about the coffin?’

  ‘I can’t remember exactly what he said, but he walked off towards the old convent, so I assumed he was going to speak to Mr Durham.’

  ‘Would that be Thomas or Nick?’

  ‘Thomas. He lives in the old chapel.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘What’s this all about, anyway?’

  ‘I’m just trying to get my head around who does what in the company. Then I’ll know who to talk to.’

  ‘Nick Durham runs it all now. He’s a decent guy to work for. So is Lee . . . most of the time.’

  ‘Thanks for your help, Barry.’

  ‘I’m really sorry for hitting Katie,’ he said suddenly.

  ‘Count yourself lucky she hasn’t pressed charges against you . . . yet,’ Jane said.

  ‘It won’t happen again, I swear,’ he said.

  ‘It had better not, because if it does, DI Stanley will come after you,’ she said. She could see the fear in Barry’s eyes. She stepped out of the cell, closed the wicket and walked back down the corridor.

  *

  Jane went to the canteen, ordered a bacon sandwich and a cup of tea then took it down to the CID office. She looked in Boon’s desk tray for his report, wanting to read the part about his conversation with Dermot and what he’d said Lee Holland did after the discovery of the coffin.

  It was no surprise when she read it. Dermot said that Lee told him he was going to speak to Mr Durham and walked off towards the old convent. She recalled seeing Thomas Durham come out of the site office early on Friday morning, then telling her the site manager wasn’t very helpful and asking her ‘what’s going on’. Lee Holland had looked worried and said the man was just a nosy resident and he didn’t know his name.

  It was clear that Thomas Durham and Lee Holland were trying to distance themselves from each other. And whatever they were hiding, it appeared to be connected to the discovery of the coffin. She thought about Nick Durham and wondered if he was also involved in some way. She got his phone number out of her handbag and called him.

  ‘Hi, it’s Jane Tennison.’

  ‘Please tell me you’re still on for dinner tonight,’ he said.

  ‘I was just wondering where and what time I should meet you?’ she said.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  As soon as she got home Jane went upstairs to her bedroom, opened the wardrobe, and looked for something to wear for dinner at the Fantail. She selected four different dresses, held them up in front of the mirror then placed them carefully on the bed before deciding which one to wear. She picked up the red, short-sleeved boat-neck dress and tried it on. Being made of wool, she knew it would keep her warm on a cold evening. She looked in the mirror again and liked how the bust darts and banded waist accentuated her figure. She removed her hair tie, shook her head, then fluffed her hair so it hung over her shoulders. ‘That’ll do nicely,’ she said to herself. She decided some black tights, black court shoes and a knee-length black velvet coat would go well with the dress.

  As she hung it to one side in the wardrobe, Jane noticed her tracksuit and thought about her conversation with Father Chris about how he liked to run three or four times a week or go to the Walnuts Leisure Centre. There’s no time like the present, she thought to herself and decided to go for a run.

  Having changed into her tracksuit and trainers, Jane realised she didn’t know Chislehurst, or the surrounding area very well, and planned out a triangular route using her A-Z street map book. She estimated it would be about three miles and wrote it down on a piece of paper which she put in her tracksuit pocket. She did some stretches and then set off.

  As she ran along the pavement, Jane started thinking about Nick Durham. It crossed her mind he could be in cahoots with his father and Lee Holland, and the invitation to dinner was a ploy to get information out of her. They could each be playing the same game. At his office he’d seemed relaxed, though understandably concerned about his father’s heart condition and the building work having to stop. And he’d readily accepted she had further inquiries to make, even offering to let her look through the company files – which suggested he had nothing to hide.

  As she trudged up a steep road, Jane also realised it was irrational to think Nick could have been involved in the nun’s murder since he’d have been a teenager at the time, and his father had yet to purchase the convent. It made her wonder if Thomas Durham had lied to his son when he said his solicitor told him everything had been deconsecrated before the sale of the convent. But if it was true, then why were Thomas Durham and Lee Holland so worried about the discovery of the coffin? If they’d been involved in the nun’s murder, it seemed bizarre that they would bury the coffin on land they knew might be dug up in the future.

  Jane was pretty sure Nick didn’t know his father and Lee Holland had lied to her. But the more she thought about it, the more she worried that going to dinner with him to probe him about the case could compromise the investigation – she should cancel their dinner date under the pretext she had to work. It would be a shame, though. She realised she’d been looking forward to it.

  Jane knew there were other ways she could find out what Thomas Durham and Lee Holland were up to, without using Nick or giving anything away. She made her mind up and decided to take her police hat off for the evening, just enjoy herself, and not talk about the investigation.

  Jane struggled up Yester Road towards the High Street. It was a steep climb of over a mile, and she regretted not driving the route first to see what it was like. She was so hot she took off her tracksuit top and tied it round her waist.

  The last mile home included another hill and halfway up she had to walk to the top. She was grateful that the final stretch was downhill. By the time she got home, she was breathing hard and soaked with sweat. She looked at her watch and was disappointed to see how long it had taken her and how unfit she’d become without regular exercise over the last few weeks.

  ‘Been out for a run, Jane?’ Gerry asked, seeing her bent over and breathing heavily.

  She took a deep inhale. ‘Yes, but I’m beginning to regret it. I had no idea how steep Yester Road is.’

  He chuckled. ‘There’s a lot of steep hills in Chislehurst. In fact, the name is derived from the Saxon words cisel, which means gravel, and hyrst, which means wooded hill. There’s quite a bit of woodland around here.’

  ‘I didn’t see any woods on my run.’

  ‘There’s Hawkwood and Petts Wood, which are owned by the National Trust, and Scadbury Park Nature Reserve. They’re lovely for walking and running . . . you should try them out sometime.’

  ‘I will, Gerry, thanks.’

  ‘My pleasure. How’s the tap holding out?’

  ‘It’s not dripped once since you fixed it.’

  ‘That’s what I like to hear,’ he said.

  Jane went inside, drank two glasses of water then collapsed on the settee and quickly fell asleep.

  The room was in darkness when Jane opened her eyes. Realising the sun had gone down, she jumped up, switched on the table lamp, and looked at her watch. ‘Shit.’ She only had thirty minutes to get ready before Nick Durham arrived to take her to the restaurant. She ran up the stairs, peeled off her tracksuit and got into the shower, wondering if she had time to wash and dry her hair.

  She had a tepid shower, not waiting for the water to heat up, put curlers in her hair and was just switching on the hairdryer when she heard a knock at the door. ‘Oh my God, he’s here and I look a mess!’ she said, seeing herself in the mirror. She put on her dressing gown, hurried down the stairs and started apologising as she op
ened the door.

  ‘I’m really sorry, Nick, I . . .’ She stopped in mid-sentence as she saw a smiling Gerry holding out a booklet.

  ‘Sorry to bother you, Jane. I forgot you were going out to dinner.’

  ‘And I’m running late, Gerry. What can I do for you?’

  ‘I’m a member of the Chislehurst Society. They produce this newsletter, called The Cockpit, two or three times a year. It gives you the latest news and goings-on in the area and I thought you might like to read it . . . or maybe even join yourself,’ he said and handing it to her.

  ‘Thanks. Sorry – I really must dash.’

  ‘Have a nice evening . . . and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,’ he said with a cheeky grin as she shut the door.

  She liked Gerry and knew he meant well, but Jane was beginning to regret asking for his help and wondered if his surprise visits were going to become a regular occurrence. She ran back upstairs and started blow-drying her hair.

  It wasn’t long before there was another knock at the door. Nick was holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I went for a run, then fell asleep and only woke up half an hour ago.’ There was still a curler dangling from her hair. ‘As you can see, I’m still not ready.’

  ‘It’s a woman’s prerogative to be late.’ He smiled and held out the flowers and the wine. ‘These are just a token of my thanks for agreeing to have dinner with me, and not completely shutting my building site down . . . yet.’

  ‘They might be construed as a bribe,’ she teased, noticing the wine was Châteauneuf-du-Pape, which she knew was expensive. ‘But thank you.’

  He faked a look of shock. ‘I would never bribe an officer of the law.’

  Jane showed him through to the living room. She thought Nick looked quite trendy in his white shirt and navy blue suit.

  ‘Take a seat. I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  ‘There’s no rush. I booked the table for 7.30. I thought we might pop into The Olde White Lion for a drink before dinner. It’s just opposite the restaurant.’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ she said, putting the orchid on the mantelpiece.

  Jane finished drying her hair, got dressed and put on some light makeup. She stood in front of the bedroom mirror, fluffed her hair and smoothed out her dress, then went downstairs to the living room.

  ‘Right, I’m good to go,’ she said.

  He stood up and looked at her with wide eyes. ‘Wow, you look absolutely stunning.’

  Jane smiled. It had been a long time since a man had said that to her. ‘You look very smart, too.’

  ‘Thank you. It’s the first time I’ve worn it.’

  Jane locked her front door and turned to follow Nick to his car – then stopped in her tracks when she saw it.

  ‘Is this your car?’ she said, admiring the shining silver-grey convertible sports car, with its wire wheels and red leather interior.

  He nodded. ‘It’s a 1961 Jaguar E-Type XKE and one of the first ever made. It was involved in a bad accident a few years ago and declared a write-off. I bought it for a song and made it roadworthy again.’

  ‘You rebuilt it?’ she said, amazed at the job he’d done on the car.

  ‘Yes. It’s kind of a hobby of mine. I’ve got a Ferrari that I’m working on just now.’

  ‘You must have a big garage.’

  ‘It’s a double garage, which I’ve turned into a workshop. I find tinkering away on cars relaxes me.’

  ‘How fast does it go?’

  ‘It’s capable of 150 miles an hour and does nought to sixty in 6.9 seconds,’ he said in a matter-of-fact way, holding the car keys out. ‘Would you like to drive it?’

  She put her hand up. ‘No thanks. It’s way more powerful than my little Mini Cooper and I don’t want to damage it.’

  He smiled. ‘You’ll be fine. It’s no different from driving any other car. Just relax and enjoy it.’

  Jane removed her black velvet coat as Nick opened the driver’s door, then handed it to him. Sitting in the soft bucket-shaped driver’s seat, she savoured the rich earthy smell of the leather interior. Nick asked if she wanted to adjust the seat, but after placing her hands on the wood-trimmed steering wheel and feet on the pedals, she said it was fine.

  ‘It’s so comfortable, but strange to be sitting so low to the ground,’ she said, putting her lap belt on.

  ‘You get used to it.’

  Jane turned the ignition, but nothing happened. She looked at Nick, wondering what was wrong.

  ‘You need to push that little black button in the middle of the dashboard.’

  She tried again, and the engine burst into life with a loud growl from the twin exhausts, then settled into a softer rhythmic rumble. She put it into first gear, slowly let her foot off the clutch and lightly pressed the accelerator. As the car started to pull away, she saw Gerry coming down his driveway with Spud. He stopped to admire the car, and Jane gave him a wave from the driver’s seat.

  Nick directed Jane to Locksbottom, which was only four miles away. She wished it had been a longer journey as driving the Jaguar was such a thrill. As she drove into the car park, Jane thought the large mock Tudor building in front of her was someone’s house, until she noticed FANTAIL written above the entrance doors in large black lettering on a white background.

  ‘Thanks for letting me drive your car. I felt like I was in a James Bond film,’ she said with a beaming smile.

  ‘You’re a good driver,’ he said.

  ‘I had to pass a five-week course before I could drive a police car,’ she told him.

  ‘Well, they obviously taught you well. The pub’s just over the road . . . or we can go straight to the restaurant.’

  ‘A drink in the pub would be nice,’ Jane said.

  They crossed the road to the pub, The Olde White Lion.

  Jane thought the interior had a warm, welcoming feel about it, with its old oak beams and a roaring log fire. There was a dancing area and stage at the back where a band was setting up its equipment.

  ‘What can I get you, Nick?’ the buxom middle-aged lady behind the bar asked him. He looked at Jane.

  ‘G and T with ice and lemon, please.’

  ‘Your usual, Nick?’

  ‘Yes please, Sandra.’

  ‘Bottle of Grolsch lager and one G and T with all the trimmings coming up,’ she said. They sat down at the bar.

  ‘I take it you’ve been here before?’ Jane whispered to him.

  ‘It’s my local. Sandra’s the landlady.’

  ‘You should have said. I’d I have driven over here to save you picking me up.’

  ‘You’re only down the road, so it wasn’t out my way. Are you OK getting a taxi home if I have a drink?’

  ‘Of course, as long as you let me pay for it,’ she replied, suspecting he would offer to.

  Sandra brought them their drinks and they clinked glasses.

  ‘You’ve got a nice house,’ Nick said.

  Jane sighed. ‘It needs a lot of work doing on it, which I can’t afford at the moment.’

  ‘You don’t need to spend a fortune to make a house look nice. It all depends on what you want and how you do it.’

  ‘To be honest, I haven’t a clue about what to do with it,’ Jane admitted.

  ‘I could draw up some different plans for you. Let me have a look round, give you a few ideas and see what you think. I can get materials for half the price that some traders would charge you.’

  ‘Are you sure? I’d pay you, of course.’

  ‘We can discuss that later. I could have a look tomorrow if you like.’

  Jane remembered Sam Pullen was picking her up at midday.

  ‘I’m out for lunch tomorrow, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Oh, right. Well, maybe some other time then,’ he said.

  From the disappointed look on his face, Jane thought he assumed it was with another man. ‘It’s with a friend, but I’m not meet
ing her until midday.’

  He perked up. ‘I could come round at ten. It would only take me an hour to look round your house.’

  ‘Ten it is, then,’ Jane said with a smile.

  ‘Would you like another drink?’ Nick asked.

  Jane looked at her watch. ‘It’s seven thirty. Should we go over to the restaurant?’

  ‘It’s OK if we’re a bit late. They’ll hold the table for me.’

  ‘In that case, I’ll have another G and T.’

  ‘Same again, please, Sandra.’

  ‘I’m paying for this round . . . whether you like it or not,’ Jane said, opening her handbag and removing her purse.

  ‘I don’t, but I won’t argue. Where did you live before Chislehurst?’

  ‘Marylebone, in a tiny flat. I was on an investigation which led to me making inquiries in Kent. I really liked the area and wanted to live and work somewhere quieter so I could study for the inspectors’ exam.’

  ‘You could have got a bigger place for the same price if you’d moved a bit further out,’ he said.

  ‘I know. But as a Met police officer I get a housing allowance which helps towards my mortgage. But to get it, you have to live within a fifteen-mile radius of Trafalgar Square. Chislehurst is just on the edge of it.’

  He nodded. ‘On the plus side, a house in an area like Chislehurst is a good investment. If you do it up a bit you could easily make a five or six grand profit on it in no time.’

  Nick put his half-full glass on the counter. ‘Shall we head over to the restaurant?’

  ‘Yes. I just need to pop to the ladies.’

  As Jane stood in front of the mirror checking her makeup and hair, she was pleased that Nick hadn’t mentioned the investigation. So far, she was just enjoying herself.

  Sandra walked in.

  ‘All right, love?’

  ‘Yes, thanks,’ Jane smiled. ‘You’ve got a really nice pub.’

  ‘Glad you like it. It’s been hard work running it since my husband buggered off with one of the barmaids. Mind you, I’m better off without the arsehole. Is Nick taking you for dinner at the Fantail?’

  ‘Yes. I’m looking forward to it. I’ve been told it’s really fancy.’