Unholy Murder Read online

  ‘Best outside of Central London, though its prices are about the same. You and Nick been dating long?’ she asked.

  ‘We’ve just met, literally two days ago,’ Jane replied coolly, thinking it was none of Sandra’s business.

  ‘Well, don’t you go leading him up the garden path. He’s one of the best is Nick. He doesn’t need more heartbreak in his life.’

  ‘Is there something I should know?’ Jane asked.

  Sandra sighed. ‘Sorry if it seems like I’m intruding, love, but . . .’

  ‘My name is Jane,’ she interrupted.

  ‘I’ve known Nick for years, Jane. You could say I’ve got a bit of a soft spot for him – in a maternal way, that is. He got married about a year and a half ago, then two weeks later his missus ran off with his best man. Turned out they’d being having an affair for a long time, but the bitch didn’t have the guts to tell him.’

  ‘God, that’s awful,’ Jane said. ‘I didn’t even know Nick had been married.’

  ‘It gets worse, Jane. Six months later, his mum discovered she had cancer. She was dead within three weeks. I’d never seen Nick so depressed. His father was in a terrible state, too, but he had to be strong for his son’s sake.’

  Jane suddenly felt very uncomfortable about accepting Nick’s invitation to dinner, worrying that she might have led him up the garden path.

  ‘I’ve certainly got no intention of hurting Nick,’ she said.

  Sandra looked at her. ‘Good. He likes you . . . a lot.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘He was in here last night and told me about you.’

  ‘What did he say?’ Jane asked.

  ‘Not much, but I could tell from the way he spoke and the look in his eye that he’s got a soft spot for you.’

  ‘Did he say what I do for a living?’

  ‘No, but my guess is you’re a copper.’

  Jane was flummoxed. ‘How can you tell?’

  Sandra tapped the side of her nose with her forefinger. ‘Being a landlady means I’m pretty good at guessing people’s professions.’

  ‘But we’ve never spoken until now.’

  Sandra laughed. ‘I’m only joking. Nick said he’d met a police lady who he really liked. Believe me, if your relationship does develop, you won’t find a nicer or kinder man to be with.’

  ‘Thanks for telling me about the tragedy in his life. I better get going or he’ll be wondering where I’ve got to.’

  ‘Take care, Jane. I’ve a feeling I might be seeing more of you.’

  ‘Everything good?’ Nick asked when she got back to the bar.

  ‘Fine, thanks. I was just chatting to Sandra. She’s quite a character.’

  ‘She certainly is. Any nonsense and you’re out the door with her foot up your backside.’

  As they were leaving the pub, the band started playing their opening number, ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love’ by Queen.

  *

  The maître d’ of the Fantail looked stylish in a three-piece grey pinstripe suit. ‘Good evening, Mr Durham. It’s been a while since we’ve had the pleasure of your company.’ He had a pronounced French accent.

  ‘I only come here on special occasions,’ Nick replied, smiling at Jane.

  ‘Then we will do our best to make it a memorable evening for you and madame,’ said the maître d’.

  As they crossed the floor, Jane admired the sophisticated ambience of the 1920s Art Deco design of the room, with its bold geometric shapes and bright colours.

  The maître d’ led them to a table for two in the corner of the room, draped with a pristine white linen tablecloth.

  He pulled out Jane’s chair, picked up her napkin, wafted it open and gently placed it on her lap. He handed them each a menu and asked Nick if he would like to see the wine list or have an aperitif first. They decided just to have wine and the maître d’ said the sommelier would be with them shortly.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Absolutely starving. All I’ve had all day is a bowl of cereal and a bacon sandwich,’ Jane said, opening the menu and looking at the starters. She gasped with surprise, realising a three-course meal in the station canteen would cost less. She fancied a steak but couldn’t believe the price of that either.

  The sommelier handed Nick the wine list.

  ‘Would you like some champagne?’ Nick asked.

  Jane couldn’t begin to imagine what a bottle would cost. ‘I’d love a glass, thank you,’ she replied.

  ‘We’ll have a bottle of Dom Perignon, please,’ Nick told the sommelier. ‘Please, Jane, have whatever you want,’ he said. ‘I want you to enjoy yourself.’

  ‘What are you having?’ she asked, thinking she would have the same or else something of a similar price.

  ‘Do you like steak?’

  ‘It’s what I was thinking of having,’ she admitted.

  ‘How about the chateaubriand for two, roasted chateau potatoes and grilled asparagus?’

  ‘That sounds good to me.’

  ‘I’ll ask for a red wine sauce on the side. Do you want a starter?’

  ‘I don’t think I’d be able to eat my main course if I had one,’ Jane laughed.

  Nick placed their order with a waiter. The sommelier, who was pouring the champagne, recommended Cabernet Sauvignon with the steak.

  ‘Do you have family in London?’ Nick asked.

  Jane nodded. ‘My parents are in Maida Vale. My sister Pam lives in Shepherd’s Bush with her husband and two young sons.’

  ‘Do you get to see your family much?’

  ‘Not really. My mum does a Sunday lunch for us all every so often, and I keep in touch by phone. What about you . . . any brothers or sisters?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m an only child. My mother died of cancer last year, so there’s just me and my dad now.’

  ‘I’m sorry, it must have been a terrible time for you both.’

  ‘It was. Stupidly, we bottled up our grief as we felt we had to be strong for each other. Coping with her death hasn’t been easy, but at least we now talk about fond memories with a smile. I do worry about my father, though, what with his dodgy heart and this coffin business. It was hard persuading him to retire after Mum’s death. He said work kept him occupied, so I realised I had to find something else to keep him busy, which wasn’t easy as he’s pretty stubborn at times.’

  ‘What did you find to occupy him?

  ‘A golden retriever puppy, which he absolutely adores. Taking her for long walks keeps him fit.’ Since Nick had opened the conversation about his father, Jane took the opportunity to ask some questions about him.

  ‘Is his dog called Bella?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And does he live in the old convent?’

  ‘Yes, in what used to be the chapel. How did you know?’ Nick asked.

  ‘My colleague and I couldn’t find the building site the other morning. We asked a man who was walking a dog called Bella. Now I know why I thought you looked so familiar yesterday. You’re the spitting image of your father.’

  ‘Do I look that old?’ he frowned.

  ‘You know what I mean,’ she grinned. ‘Funnily enough, I also saw him and Bella yesterday morning. He was talking to the site foreman, Lee Holland.’

  ‘No doubt he was badgering Lee about the coffin and what was happening with the site. I told my dad not to get involved because it’s not good for his health, but he just can’t help himself.’

  ‘Does Lee know about his heart condition?’

  ‘Yes, they’re old friends. Lee worked with my dad on building sites long before he started his own company. I kind of knew Lee would speak to my father before me, even though I’ve asked him not to involve dad in any problems. The two of them are as thick as thieves at times. That said, Lee’s been like a rock for Dad since Mum died.’

  Jane wondered if she’d got it all wrong about Thomas Durham and Lee Holland. Perhaps their strange behaviour could simply be due to Thomas’s il
l health, and the fact that they didn’t want Nick to know they’d been discussing the discovery of the coffin.

  ‘Hopefully, it will all be sorted in the next few days and the building work can start again,’ Jane said.

  ‘That would be good,’ he said. ‘Anyway, enough about work. What do you like to do when you’re not investigating mysterious coffins?’

  Jane laughed. ‘As I said, I’m studying for the inspectors’ exam, so that takes up a lot of my spare time.’

  ‘Not too much I hope,’ he said.

  ‘I’m sure I can take some time off from studying,’ she said.

  ‘Do you like cycling? I go for a cycle in the countryside and have a pub lunch now and again. I’ve got a spare lady’s bike in my garage if you fancy an outing sometime.’

  ‘That would be nice. I haven’t been on a bike since I was a youngster,’ Jane said.

  The waitress served their chateaubriand and the sommelier brought over the wine and poured two glasses. He put the bottle down on the table.

  ‘The maître d’ said the wine is with compliments of the house, Mr Durham.’

  Nick smiled. ‘Please thank him for me. It’s very much appreciated.’

  Jane cut into her steak. ‘It’s the best I’ve ever tasted. It literally melts in your mouth,’ she said.

  ‘Try a bit of the red wine sauce,’ Nick said.

  Jane poured a small bit on the side of her plate and dipped a piece of steak in it. Her face lit up as she ate it. ‘I think I’ve just died and gone to heaven,’ she said, enjoying the dark smokiness, the sweetness, and the acidity from the wine. She poured some more on her plate and realised what she’d just said. ‘I’m sorry, that was a thoughtless remark.’

  He shook his head. ‘Don’t be silly. You’re enjoying yourself and that’s what matters to me. Tell me the layout of your house so I’ve got an idea of it before I come round tomorrow.’

  ‘It’s pretty straightforward, really. You’ve seen the lounge, and there’s a door leading to the dining room and the kitchen. There’s also a door from the kitchen into the hallway. Upstairs, there’s the master bedroom at the front, small double at the back, and a bathroom at the top of the stairs.’

  Nick nodded, picturing the layout in his head. ‘As an off-the-cuff suggestion, I’d remove the wall between the living and dining rooms to open it up and give you a bit more space.’

  ‘Would that be expensive?’

  ‘Not really. You’d need to put a up a lintel to support the load above it if you take out the wall. You could use a wooden lintel which is cheaper than a steel one. Once that’s done, it’s just a case of making good with plaster and paint or wallpaper.’

  ‘Sounds like a good idea,’ Jane said, trying to imagine it.

  ‘I’d need to see your kitchen before coming up with any ideas about that. But if you go open plan, you can get rid of the door to the kitchen in the hallway. Then there would be enough room to make a recess in the kitchen, into which you could fit a large fridge freezer with space for a wine rack above. It’d be really cheap and easy to do with some plasterboard.’

  ‘That’s a brilliant idea.’

  ‘I’ll draw up some rough sketches for you tomorrow and then do some proper plans. If you decide to go ahead, I can organise everything for you at cost price. I reckon the work would only take two or three weeks tops.’

  ‘I’ll have to take a loan out to pay for it . . . if the bank will give me one.’

  ‘I’ll loan you the money. You can pay me back as and when. No interest.’

  ‘It’s very kind of you to offer, Nick, but I couldn’t . . .’

  ‘I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to. And with your permission, I could use photographs of the completed job as an advertisement for my designs for smaller houses. You’d be doing me a favour.’

  ‘Can I think about it?’

  ‘Of course, there’s no rush.’

  The sommelier topped up their wine glasses and they didn’t talk much as they concentrated on their food.

  ‘Would you like a dessert?’ Nick asked.

  ‘I’m really full,’ Jane said.

  ‘What about a sorbet? It’s a refreshing palate cleanser – just what you need after a big meal.’

  ‘Can we share one?’

  ‘Of course.’ Nick got the waiter’s attention and ordered one sorbet, with an extra bowl and spoon.

  After the waitress had served the sorbet, Nick scooped half of it into the other bowl then picked up the champagne.

  ‘Shame to let it go to waste,’ he said, pouring it over the sorbet. ‘It actually tastes really nice.’

  Jane noticed the sommelier frowning as he watched Nick, barely able to disguise his disapproval. She and Nick giggled like a pair of schoolkids. Jane tried a spoonful. Nick was right: it was wonderful.

  ‘Would you like a coffee or a liqueur?’ Nick asked, finishing his sorbet.

  ‘I’m fine, thanks.’

  ‘I’ll get the bill and ask the maître d’ to call a taxi for you,’ Nick said with a sigh, as if he was sad their evening had come to an end.

  ‘I don’t want to go home yet,’ Jane said. ‘I thought we might go back to the pub, listen to the band, and have a dance . . . if you want to.’

  Nick’s eyes lit up. ‘I’d love to. But I have to warn you . . . I’m no John Travolta.’

  ‘That’s probably because everyone mistakes you for Robert Redford,’ she said, remembering his quip when they’d first met.

  ‘You said Woody Allen yesterday,’ he retorted.

  ‘I know, but it’s also a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.’

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  There was a lively energy in The Olde White Lion as the band belted out The Rolling Stones’ ‘Brown Sugar’, and the flashing disco lights made the cigarette smoke look like a mass of swirling rainbows. The pub was packed and the dance floor full as the lead singer encouraged everyone to join in the chorus. ‘Brown sugar . . . how come you taste so good?’ rang out as people sang at the tops of their voices.

  ‘Is it always this busy on a Saturday night?’ Jane asked, raising her voice above the music.

  ‘Yes, thanks mostly to the band. If it’s too noisy for you, we can go down the road to a quieter pub.’

  ‘It’s fine, I like it here,’ she said.

  ‘What would you like to drink?’ Nick asked, getting his wallet out.

  ‘Please, let me get the drinks . . . and I won’t take no for an answer,’ she said firmly.

  ‘In that case, I’ll have a Bacardi and Coke. I just need to nip to the gents.’

  Sandra was still behind the bar. Jane ordered Nick’s drink and a glass of white wine for herself.

  ‘Did you have a nice meal?’ Sandra asked.

  ‘It was the best food I’ve ever tasted,’ Jane said. ‘And Nick is great company.’

  ‘I hope your friendship blossoms into something more for both of you,’ Sandra smiled.

  ‘So do I,’ Jane replied without thinking, realising how attracted she felt to him. She was pretty sure Nick felt the same way about her.

  Jane paid for the drinks and carried them over to a small table near the dance floor. The band was playing ‘London’s Calling’ by The Clash as Nick returned from the gents.

  ‘Is this your sort of music?’ Nick asked.

  ‘I like all sorts really,’ Jane said. ‘But I do like heavy rock, like Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple. I saw Janis Joplin live at the—’

  ‘Royal Albert Hall, twenty-first of April 1969. It was her one and only UK performance,’ Nick interrupted.

  ‘You were there as well?’ Jane asked, hoping he had been.

  ‘I certainly was,’ he said. ‘I remember everybody was up and dancing, which was unbelievable in a posh place like the Albert Hall. It was a night I’ll never forget.’

  Jane grinned. ‘Same here. She put her heart and soul into every song. That raw voice she had was incredibly emotional.’

  ‘I
know just what you mean,’ Nick said. ‘But the highlight of the night for me was when she sang “Piece of My Heart”.’

  ‘Now that song did rip your heart out,’ Jane agreed. ‘It made me cry back then, and still does when I hear it now.’

  ‘Can you remember who the support band was?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied.

  ‘Well, who was it, then?’ Nick asked.

  ‘It was Yes,’ she replied, knowing she was right.

  ‘I know you said yes, but who was it?’

  ‘It was the band called Yes!’

  Nick laughed. ‘You fell for that one, didn’t you?’

  Jane raised her eyebrows and shook her head, ‘Yes, I did. Now it’s my turn.’ She walked around the dance floor and spoke to the band’s bass guitarist.

  ‘What you up to?’ he asked Jane warily when she returned.

  ‘All I can say is . . . there is something going down and I can feel it,’ Jane replied with a grin.

  Nick racked his brain to associate what she said with a song. The answer came when the lead singer made an announcement.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, this next song by the Bee Gees is especially for Nick, who’s also a big John Travolta fan.’

  As the band started playing ‘Night Fever’, the audience let out a loud cheer and more couples got on the dance floor.

  Jane grabbed Nick’s hand. ‘Come on, time to show me how you strut your stuff,’ she said.

  ‘Go on, snake hips!’ Sandra shouted to Nick from behind the bar.

  Nick laughed. ‘I’ll never be allowed back in here again after this.’

  Some people formed a line and started the Brooklyn hustle dance associated with the film Saturday Night Fever. They moved in unison, forward and back, doing a three-step turn and clap, then moving their right hands diagonally across their bodies, pointing first to the floor and then to the ceiling.

  Nick and Jane danced to one side.

  ‘Do you want to join in?’ Jane asked.

  ‘I’ll give it a go,’ he said, and they moved into the line.

  Jane was surprised at how good a dancer Nick was. When the song was over, Nick held Jane’s hand and walked her back to their table.

  ‘You all wanna have some more party fun?’ the lead singer shouted and a loud chorus of ‘yeahs’ filled the air. ‘OK, let’s get down with a little number by The Gap Band. Say oops upside your head, say oops upside your head . . .’