A finer end - Deborah Crombie [81]
“Let’s leave the car by the road and walk, shall we?” Kincaid suggested. “That field looks a bit treacherous.”
Gemma found a wide spot in the verge to park and they picked their way across the rutted, mucky ground. “Rain must have been heavier here,” she said softly, then fell silent as they approached the caravan. There was no sound of music or telly, and Kincaid’s rap on the door shattered the air like gunshot.
Nick opened the door quickly, paling when he saw them. “What is it? What’s happened? Is Faith—”
“No, she’s fine,” Gemma hastened to reassure him.
“Then what—”
“We just wanted a word. Can we come in?”
“Oh. Sorry.” He stepped back, holding the door for them. “My humble abode. And it is humble.”
Not only humble, but untidy, thought Gemma as she surveyed the space. It was essentially one room, with a kitchenette at one end, a sleeping area at the other, and a partition at the back that must house shower and toilet. Dishes were piled on the draining board and clothes strewn on the floor, but the majority of the clutter consisted of books. They filled every available space. There were even a few stacks that appeared to be permanently installed on the bed, as if Nick arranged himself around them when he slept.
Nick looked tired and rumpled; he gazed at them, then looked round the room with a perplexed expression, as if unsure what to do with visitors.
Kincaid gestured towards the small table. “Perhaps we could sit down?”
“Oh. Right.” Nick hurried to clear two of the chairs of books and papers, dumping them unceremoniously on the floor, then pulled out the chairs with an air of triumph. “Tea?”
Gemma averted her eyes from the kitchen. “No, no, we’re fine, really. We just wanted to have a chat about yesterday.”
Nick flipped the third chair round and straddled it, watching them warily. “Okay. Chat away.”
“You said that you looked everywhere for Faith yesterday afternoon and evening,” Kincaid said easily. When Carlisle nodded confirmation, he continued. “But you didn’t go to the farmhouse?”
This time the young man’s nod was less assertive.
“That’s a bit odd, isn’t it?” Gemma asked. “It would seem the obvious place to start.”
“I—I promised Faith I wouldn’t go there. Garnet didn’t like it when I did.”
“But you were obviously worried about Faith,” said Kincaid. “And you’d told her to look at Garnet’s van. If it had been me, and I thought Garnet might have been responsible for Winnie’s accident, and then Faith disappeared, I’d have turned that place upside down looking for her.”
“I—” Nick hesitated. Then his resolve seemed to harden. “Look. I know you’re Jack’s cousin, but I don’t see that this is any business of yours. Why are you asking me all these questions?”
“Because a woman is dead, and fresh tracks from your motorbike are all over her yard,” Kincaid replied sharply. “And because Jack asked us to have a word with you before we brought that to Inspector Greely’s attention. Jack was sure you’d have a good explanation.”
Nick looked from Kincaid to Gemma, dismay written on his face. “Oh, shit. I didn’t think of that.”
“You were there.” Gemma made it a statement.
“I was worried about Faith. I went to the farmhouse to talk to her, even though I knew she’d be furious with me.”
“Did you see Garnet?”
Nick nodded. “She said Faith wasn’t there, but I didn’t believe her. I searched the house.”
“And then?”
He bridled. “And then I kept looking. I even went to Street and had a look at her parents’ house, just in case she’d been desperate enough to go back, and to the Vicarage, in case she’d gone there.”
“If you left Ms. Todd alive and well, why not tell the truth?” Kincaid asked him.
Nick shrugged. “When I heard Garnet was dead, I started to think … you know, it looked bad. And how was anyone else to know I’d been there? Pretty stupid of me, I suppose.”
“Quite,” Kincaid agreed drily. “You’ll have to talk to the police, and I’d recommend you do it before they come looking for you. You do realize you may have been the last person to see Ms. Todd alive?”
Color stained Nick