“Pippa Redfern, an old friend of his, seems to agree with you. I like to think we live in more enlightened times.” Leonard purposely smiled at Adrian then. “So what happened? After Luke was found?”
“Another story altogether. The fallout from the incident was almost as bad. After that, the Darlingtons stopped coming to the area. Don’t think they were welcome anymore, not by most. Locals gossip, naturally, and the whole incident fairly shook up the townsfolk. You see, crime round here was, and still is, committed largely by outsiders over the holidays. Mostly petty stuff, you know? Drunks disturbing the peace, drink driving, the rare case of domestic abuse, kids shoplifting, that kind of thing. We used to have four or five caravan sites dotted around the area back then. Farmers made extra income renting out fields. We rarely saw serious crime. Most deaths aren’t suspicious. They’re mostly from natural causes and on occasion from accidents on farms usually involving casual labourers doing stupid things.”
As PC Morgan spoke, Leonard looked up with disbelief when Morgan’s counterpart stepped in through the plastic sheeting at the back of the house. The realisation hit him hard that anybody could get into the house if they wanted, despite Adrian’s reassurance. He made a mental note to chase the window company, to see if they could deliver and install earlier, and if not, to provide more substantial security at the back of the house. Oblivious, Adrian pulled out a chair for the young policeman and handed him a cup of tea.
“I remember we had three accidents the year I joined. Unheard of in these parts. All preventable, but made worse by the heavy rains over the summer. One local guy, Max Williams, lost his footing while repairing a fence on the steep side of a duck pond. Down on the Hughes’ farm, it was. Tragic. Nobody knew the poor bugger couldn’t swim. By the time Hughes’ son went to check on him it was too late. Then we had this popular Australian bloke, Hunter somebody, helping on the farm out by Franksbridge. Loved driving the tractor, he did, but went up a wet slope far too steep. Bloody thing came down on top of him. Didn’t stand a chance. Locals would have known better. Last was an English lad, not much younger than me back then, slipped and fell off the roof of a farmhouse in Nantmel and landed on some machinery, cleaning leaves from the guttering of all things. Sort of thing you ought to leave to the professionals, in my book.”
“Max Williams?” asked Leonard. “Freya’s father?”
“You’re becoming a proper local, aren’t you? Fairly common name around these parts, Williams. But, yes, that’s him. Nice bloke, he was. Took after his mum. Thirty-six, he would have been when it happened. Used to do odd jobs around the town, anything he could get to provide extra cash for his mum and his kids. But also volunteered helping out with local causes. Folk really liked him."
Leonard nodded. Perhaps he was beginning to understand how Freya had come to be a recluse, losing her father at such a young age, her brother going on his travels the following year, and then Luke taking his own life the year after that. Her grandmother passing away must have been the final straw.
“Charlie, do you think we could get back?” said the younger policeman. “Only, we’ve got to write up this report and, well, I wouldn’t mind getting back to the missus before the kids wake up.”
“Yes, of course, Bobby. Don’t mind me. You know how I like to gab when I get the opportunity. Okay, gents. I’ll leave you be. Make sure you get that window boarded up.”
“We will. And just to let you know,” said Leonard, “I’m putting in CCTV at the front and back of the house, and also installing security lighting. Early next week, if the installers can fit me in. So if anyone else tries anything, I’ll be able to provide you with solid video evidence.”
“That sounds like a sensible precaution. In the meantime, I’m going to check into Matthew Darlington’s whereabouts and Bobby here’s going to examine local footage on road cameras to see if anyone was in the area last night. Unfortunately, I know for a fact that we have very few in this area, but we’ll do our best. We’ve got your contact details, so we’ll be in touch.”
Leonard stood with Adrian at the front door, watching the men in uniform stroll back down the driveway by the early morning light, chatting together. Once they were out of sight, Leonard closed the door, sighed, and thumped his back against the wooden door panels.
“Do you think it was your cousin Matthew?” asked Adrian. “Who started the fire?”
Once again, Adrian had been reading Leonard’s mind. The more he thought about what Mary had said, the more he agreed that Matthew was too ineffectual to bother going to such extreme lengths. But if I wasn’t him, who was it? And the more burning question—for want of a better expression—was why?
“I’ve no idea. Let Morgan do his job and check him out. One thing’s for sure. I’m making a call later, once the world’s woken up, and calling in a favour from my friend Kennedy. I want this place safe for you to work and stay in next week. God, Adrian. Have I done the right thing? Refurbishing this place? The last thing I want to do is put you and Toni in any danger. I’m wondering if it’s all really worth the effort—”
“Stop right there,” said Adrian, abruptly, before taking Leonard by the arm. “And come with me.”
Leonard let Adrian lead him across the living room towards the plastic sheeting. Sunlight had begun to glow through the opaque, translucent material. Reaching out with his free hand, Adrian found a parting in the sheet and scooped a handful aside before pulling Leonard through, into the morning light.
As soon as Leonard stood still and took a lungful of fresh morning air, he realised what Adrian was doing. From the vantage point of the raised patio, the garden had been transformed. Lush, manicured lawn stretched down to the outer edges, where evergreen bushes marked out the boundary. As promised, Pippa’s company had erected a pretty gazebo in the far right corner, with a small bench inside looking back to the house. All around the edges of the lawn, bushes of differing heights and varieties had been planted, with some original flora—the apple tree behind the brand-new garden shed, the three firs along the right boundary. But it was the panorama beyond that caught Leonard’s breath, the sun rising over a blanket of various shades of verdant patchwork marking out the farmlands of Wales, with dark waterways meandering through, all beneath a sky of pure blue optimism.
“Now tell me it isn’t worth the effort,” said Adrian, lacing his fingers into Leonard’s.
“Okay. Point taken. Next time I start to complain, bring me out here. This is truly amazing.”
Everywhere Leonard looked, he picked out more details. A small bird box had been installed in the apple tree, while all around the patio, Pippa’s company had provided long garden boxes of what he assumed to be herbs and colourful but easy-to-maintain garden flowers.
“What time is it?” asked Adrian.
“Coming up to six-thirty,” said Leonard, checking his phone. “What do you want to do? Go back to bed?”
“After all that drama, there’s no way I could sleep.”
“Who said anything about sleeping?” said Leonard, squeezing his hand.
Adrian snorted, released their hands and folded his arms.
“As much as I like the idea, I think I ought to board up that window first, while you go and tidy up the kitchen. You’ll be done before me, so I suggest you go up and shower first, I’ll follow. And then, because I need to be fed, we head to the Manor Inn for breakfast. I don’t fancy doing anything around here this morning. Is that okay?”
“Agreed on the breakfast front. But I thought maybe this morning I could put my skeleton keys to good use and find out if there’s anything locked away in the drawers of that dresser.”
“I forgot about that,” said Adrian, brightening. “Good plan.”
“No idea why, but I’ve got a feeling we might find some answers today.”
