Unholy Murder

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 opened 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 meeting 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.’

‘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 ill 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.’