The Night Hawks Read online

  David Brown

  Darren Carter

  Troy Evans

  Ed Fitzherbert

  Michael Malone (Cathbad)

  Paul Noakes

  Neil Topham

  Bryan Walker

  David is a lecturer at the university, Darren is a carpenter and Troy a fisherman. Ed, Paul and Bryan are all teachers and Neil is an IT consultant. Is there anything else that this group have in common? The men range in age from Ed at fifty-eight to Troy at twenty-one. They are all local to the area. Troy, Paul and Darren are ex-pupils of Alan’s, Ed and Neil were his colleagues. Where does Bryan teach? Judy looks back through her notes. Bryan Walker teaches at St Luke’s Primary. And Judy sees a school playground and Selina Spencer, a smiling figure in her wine-coloured trouser suit. There was only me, Linda and Bryan in the oldies club.

  She has her link.

  Ruth’s legs feel quite wobbly when she steps out onto the jetty. She’s only been at sea for an hour and already she’s forgotten how to walk. How on earth do round-the-world sailors manage it? Kate and Maja run ahead, unaffected by seasickness. The two girls seem to have developed a friendship in that miraculous way that children do sometimes. Ruth turns around to thank Troy for the trip but he’s already striding away across the beach.

  ‘Thank you!’ Ruth shouts after him. Troy raises his hand in a laconic salute.

  ‘Did you enjoy it?’ asks David. Ruth stumbles on the pebbles and David steadies her.

  ‘Very much,’ says Ruth, extracting herself. She doesn’t want to be helped along like an old lady. ‘It was kind of Troy to take us. I hope it wasn’t too upsetting after yesterday.’

  She’s fishing but without a boat.

  ‘Poor Alan,’ says David. He’s frowning in a way that’s now familiar. Ruth thinks he’s going to say more but, suddenly, his face clears. ‘Fancy some fish and chips?’ he says.

  It’s only three o’clock. Ruth should go home and do some work. She’s still disturbed by the comment she overheard on the boat. But Kate and Maja have come to halt by a small café with a giant plastic crab in front of it. The blue and white awning flaps in the breeze and a delicious smell of frying batter floats towards them.

  ‘Oh, all right then,’ says Ruth.

  Despite his claims of sensitivity, Nelson is finding the interview with Nathan’s fiancée hard going. Faye Wilson meets him at the shoe shop where she works. Her sympathetic employer allows them to talk in the stockroom, which smells of leather. Shoeboxes surround them, all apparently named after girls: Nancy, Jessica, Emily and Tara. Faye sits on a low stool and weeps when she talks about Nathan. Nelson is used to tears – he has three daughters, after all – but now he can’t do the bracing ‘cheer up, love’ routine that works at home. All he can do is pass Faye tissues and hope that the tide turns soon.

  ‘Nathan always wanted to be a policeman,’ says Faye, pressing a tissue against her eyes.

  ‘Me too,’ says Nelson. ‘But it doesn’t pay that well, does it? Not in the early days.’ He thinks again of Jo calculating how many new recruits she could snaffle for the cost of one aging DCI.

  ‘No,’ says Faye, sniffing.

  ‘Is that why Nathan did the drugs trials at Black Dog Farm?’ asks Nelson, as gently as possible.

  Faye looks at him, wide-eyed. ‘How did you . . .?’

  ‘We’re looking into recent events at the farm,’ says Nelson. ‘Including the appointments at the surgery.’

  ‘Of course,’ says Faye. ‘That’s where the shooting was. I’ve hardly looked at the news recently.’

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ says Nelson. ‘Can you tell me anything about the drugs trial?’

  ‘It was all above-board,’ says Faye. ‘It was with a proper doctor and everything. Nathan just didn’t tell his parents about it because they’d worry. And also because he got to hear of it from a man he’d arrested.’

  ‘Jem Taylor?’

  ‘I can’t remember the name. This man said that he’d been doing these trials for weeks. You just had to have an injection and make of note of how you felt. And it paid really good money. We were saving . . . we were saving to get married.’ And the tears fall again.

  ‘Can you remember what this trial was about?’

  ‘No,’ says Faye. ‘But it wasn’t anything serious. The flu, Nathan says. And you can’t die of flu, can you?’

  You can, thinks Nelson, and Nathan did. But he just thanks Faye for her time and stands up to leave. Faye remains sitting, surrounded by Nancy, Jessica, Emily and the rest of the girls.

  Ruth likes the café. There’s vinegar on the tables and ketchup in tomato-shaped bottles. The fish and chips come in pretend newspaper and there are framed seaside postcards on the walls. Depressingly sexist, of course, but in keeping with the retro feel.

  The girls talk about school. Kate is thrilled at the thought of summer camp and asks Ruth if she can go to one.

  ‘I don’t think they have them in England,’ says Ruth. ‘Not unless you’re a Girl Guide or something.’

  ‘Can I be a Girl Guide then?’

  ‘If you like.’ Ruth’s mother was a Guider. Ruth remembers a picture of her in uniform, bristling with badges. Well, maybe it’s different these days. Less vowing to the Queen, more feminism.

  ‘I was a Boy Scout for a while,’ says David. ‘It was more or less compulsory at West Runton.’ His face falls again, as it always does when he mentions the past. Or perhaps he’s thinking about Alan White, his old schoolfriend.

  ‘My mother was keen on the Guides,’ says Ruth, ‘but then she was keen on religion too. I suppose the two are linked in my mind.’

  ‘You’re not religious then?’ says David, shaking vinegar onto his chips.

  ‘No,’ says Ruth. ‘I’m glad my parents had the comfort of it though. And the church helped my dad a lot after my mum died.’

  ‘Granddad’s getting married at Christmas,’ says Kate. ‘I’m going to be a bridesmaid.’

  Maja asks what a bridesmaid is, and Kate explains at length.

  ‘My father married again after my mother died,’ says David. ‘I remember thinking: I just hope it makes him happier. And it did, I think.’

  ‘Is your father still alive?’ asks Ruth. She realised recently that this is now her first question when people of her age mention their parents.

  ‘Yes,’ says David. ‘He lives in Ireland. His second wife is much younger and so my half-brothers are only in their early twenties. They’re nice enough but I don’t feel as if they’ve got much to do with me.’

  David is a loner, thinks Ruth. There’s something about him that reminds her of Cathbad, even though Cathbad is now moored by a partner and family. But, in David, you can see the traces of the lonely child, even now when he’s laughing and relaxed, in the company of his daughter.

  When they’ve finished eating, David and Maja walk Ruth and Kate to their car.

  ‘What are you going to do tonight?’ David asks Ruth.

  ‘Work,’ says Ruth. ‘I always thought Phil was exaggerating about the paperwork but he wasn’t.’

  ‘Phil was your predecessor?’

  ‘That’s right. Phil Trent. I think you met his wife, Shona, the other day. She teaches English at UNN.’

  ‘The beautiful redhead? Yes, I remember.’

  This description irritates Ruth although it is the literal truth.

  ‘We’re going to play Monopoly tonight,’ says Maja.

  ‘It’s not much of a game with two,’ says David.

  For a moment Ruth thinks he’s going to ask them to join them and hastily starts to formulate excuses, starting with work and ending up with ‘I don’t trust you because you’re hiding something from the police.’

  ‘Goodbye,’ she says, in a tone which she hopes combines friendliness with finality. ‘Thank you for asking us.’ David looks
as if he’s going to say something but in the end just raises his hand.

  ‘Bye, Ruth.’

  The girls are promising to keep in touch. They are still waving when Ruth puts the car into gear and drives away.

  It’s a beautiful early evening, the marshes glittering with secret water, birds rising up out of the grass, practising their migratory manoeuvres. Back at the cottage, Kate wanders off to find Flint, and Ruth opens her laptop. She clicks onto the latest NSS student experience surveys but these always make her depressed, even if they are broadly positive. She’s sure that the correspondent who said they had ‘no contact time’ must be lying but she’ll still be held responsible if this puts her course below the university average. She should look at student numbers for 2020, but instead she googles ‘The Sheringham Mermaid’. She finds an article from the Eastern Daily Press entitled ‘Weird Norfolk’.

  The 5th-century pews in the 900-year-old church of All Saints in Upper Sheringham tell the fishy tale of an unusual visitor to the village who has left her mark on this corner of north Norfolk for all to see.

  There, on the bench end of the pew closest to the north door, is a not-so-little mermaid, a formidable-looking siren of the sea immortalised in carved wood.

  Legend has it that the mermaid was drawn to the church from more than a mile away by the sound of heavenly singing and, despite the encumbrance of a tail, dragged herself laboriously from beach to churchyard.

  With the service still in full swing, the church beadle unceremoniously slammed the door in the face of the sea princess, leaving her floundering outside.

  ‘Git yew arn out, we carn’t have noo marmeards in ’are,’ the Beadle hissed.

  But mermaids are made of stern stuff and a mile and a half is too far to slither without a sit-down – as soon as she was able, she crept into the back of the church and can still be found there today.

  Ruth thinks of the seals today, so awkward on land, so lithe and graceful in the water. She thinks of the Sheringham mermaid dragging herself up from the beach with her ‘encumbrance of a tail’. She remembers reading somewhere that The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen is an allegory about puberty. When the mermaid develops legs, every step is like ‘walking on knives’. She has no voice either, Ruth seems to remember, having traded her tongue for legs. Of course, in the stories, mermaids are meant to enjoy singing, hence the Sheringham sea princess being so enchanted by the church choir. Erik had many tales about sea sprites whose unearthly music lured men to their deaths. Maybe those were also warnings about avoiding the dangerous sexuality of women. Unlike the Disney version, there’s no happy ending for Andersen’s mermaid. She dies and becomes sea foam, a kind of purgatory, neither life nor death.

  Ruth thinks again about the conversation she heard between Alan and Troy, the skipper of The Sheringham ­Mermaid. Then she gets out her phone and rings Nelson.

  ‘Ruth,’ says Nelson loudly. It sounds like he’s in the car. He always thinks that he has to shout when on the hands-free setting. ‘What the matter?’

  ‘Nothing’s the matter,’ says Ruth, wondering if this is true. ‘Kate and I have just been to Blakeney Point to see the seals.’

  ‘That bloody place,’ says Nelson. ‘I’d be happy never to go there again.’

  ‘Kate likes the seals,’ says Ruth, ‘as you know. Anyway, we went with David Brown, my colleague from the university. He’s got a daughter Kate’s age.’

  ‘I didn’t know you were so chummy with him,’ says Nelson.

  ‘I’m not chummy with him,’ says Ruth. She tells herself not to be defensive. She can spend her Saturdays any way she likes. She takes a calming breath. ‘David suggested it. He wanted some company for Maja, his daughter. Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that we went out on a boat owned by a man called Troy Evans. He’s one of the Night Hawks. You know, the ones who go around at night trampling on archaeological sites.’

  ‘I know Evans,’ says Nelson.

  ‘It’s probably nothing but I heard Troy and David talking. They said something about being interviewed by the police and David said, “You didn’t tell them anything, did you?”’

  ‘Interesting,’ says Nelson. ‘Very interesting.’

  ‘Like I say, it’s probably nothing,’ says Ruth.

  ‘But it might be something,’ says Nelson. ‘Thank you for letting me know. Can I say hallo to Katie?’

  ‘I’ll get her. She’s upstairs with Flint.’

  ‘I think she prefers that bloody cat to me.’

  And, if she does, sometimes Ruth doesn’t blame her.

  After a lively chat with Katie about seals and cats, Nelson thinks about David Brown for the rest of the way home. He’d disliked him from the start, had thought him the sort of bespectacled smart Alec who writes letters to the Guardian about police incompetence but calls them in pretty quickly if his second home gets burgled. Ruth had seemed to find David irritating that day, but she’d probably thought the same about him when they first met and look where that led to. But that’s not the important thing here. He wrenches his thoughts away with an effort. No, the important thing is that David talked to Troy about potentially concealing evidence. Is this linked to Alan White’s death or to the events at Black Dog Farm? Do either of the men know about the illegal drugs trials that potentially killed Jem Taylor and Nathan Matthews? Either way, the Night Hawks clearly have something to hide.

  It’s six o’clock when Nelson reaches the cul-de-sac. He hears voices from the garden and finds his wife and daughter drinking Prosecco on the patio. George is playing on his trampoline, watched anxiously by Bruno.

  ‘We never had a trampoline,’ says Laura, by way of greeting.

  ‘No one had trampolines then,’ says Nelson, bending to kiss her. ‘You and Rebecca had a treehouse. I remember putting it up.’ He’d put his back out, he recalls, and missed a five-a-side football tournament. Frank bought Katie a trampoline last year. Nelson had been furious at the time but now Frank is back in America, where he belongs, and the trampoline is in Ruth’s tiny back garden, taking up all the lawn.

  ‘How’s school?’ Nelson asks, pulling a chair next to ­Laura’s sunlounger. Michelle brings him a beer. Suddenly all is right in his world.

  ‘OK,’ says Laura. She teaches at a primary school in Lynn. It’s hard work but she seems to love it. Nelson often worries about his oldest daughter. Is she happy? Is she too thin? Is she seeing an unsuitable man? But, at present, Laura seems content with her job and her flatmates. There’s no man on the horizon and her legs, in faded blue jeans, look slim rather than skinny. Laura is the daughter who looks most like Michelle, with long blonde hair, now in a careless ponytail, and the same effortless elegance. Rebecca is dark but she, too, favours her mother. Katie is probably the only one who looks like him. Much prettier though.

  Laura and Rebecca know about Katie and see her often but, by tacit agreement, they don’t talk about her at home.

  ‘Mum says you’ve got a murder case,’ says Laura. She’s also the only member of his family who is really interested in his work.

  ‘Yes,’ says Nelson, taking a long swig of beer. ‘Man found on the beach at Blakeney Point.’

  ‘Blakeney Point! I used to love going to see the seals there. Remember, Mum?’

  ‘I remember that time it was rough and your dad was sick.’

  ‘That was something I ate,’ says Nelson. But the truth is that he – like Ruth – is not a fan of boats.

  ‘What about the other case?’ says Laura. ‘The couple found in the farmhouse? Was that murder?’

  ‘It’s still an ongoing investigation,’ says Nelson.

  ‘That means yes,’ says Laura. ‘I went to that house once.’

  ‘What?’ Nelson turns so violently that he knocks his beer over. Bruno barks reprovingly. ‘You went to that house? When?’

  ‘When I was at school. A wh
ole group of us went to a party there. I think the parents were away. It was a bloody spooky place.’

  Nelson turns to Michelle. ‘Did you know about this?’

  ‘I don’t remember it,’ says Michelle. ‘Laura went to so many parties. How old would you have been, Laura?’

  ‘About sixteen. It was when I was going out with Lee.’

  ‘Whose party was it?’ says Nelson. ‘Paul’s?’

  Paul Noakes is thirty-one. Laura – incredibly – is twenty-eight. It’s not impossible that they knew each other at school.

  ‘No, it was his sister,’ says Laura. ‘Chloe, I think her name was. She was older and at university. I remember there had been some scandal at school because she was having an affair with a teacher.’

  ‘Her history teacher?’ says Nelson, thinking of Douglas Noakes’s words to Alan White. You’re corrupting my son. You’re a disgrace to the profession. Maybe it was his daughter that Alan was corrupting.

  ‘No,’ says Laura. ‘IT, I think. One of those subjects anyway.’

  Chapter 27

  ‘Neil Topham?’ says Judy. ‘He was having an affair with Chloe Noakes?’

  ‘It’s a definite possibility,’ says Nelson. ‘Laura said it was an IT teacher.’

  ‘There are probably lots of IT teachers at Greenhill,’ says Tanya. ‘It’s a big school.’

  ‘All the same,’ says Nelson. ‘It’s worth checking. Do you want to talk to him again, Tanya, as he knows you?’

  ‘OK,’ says Tanya. ‘I wouldn’t say we exactly hit it off, though.’

  ‘I’ll talk to Chloe,’ says Judy. ‘I’ve spoken to her a few times although I wouldn’t say we’d built up a rapport either, exactly.’

  ‘She was at the farm the other day,’ says Nelson. ‘She wants to put the place on the market.’

  ‘That’s fair enough, I suppose,’ says Judy.

  ‘Yes,’ says Nelson, ‘but remember what Chloe said to Tanya about remortgaging? I wonder if she’s short of money. Might be worth trying to find out. We can’t look at her accounts without an information order, but we could ask a few questions.’