The Coldest Blood

Dryden took his telling-off like a man. ‘I realize that your main concern is getting Chips out – but I’m quite interested in the question that comes next: if he didn’t beat Paul Gedney to death, who did? The morning after the children saw him in the old boat they were sent home – they were accused of a series of petty thefts in the camp. I presume you’d made the connection, that you recall the incident? In the circumstances it was all the more remarkable that they came forward at all. Can you remember anything about that – who accused them, for example?’

She creased her brow as if trying to reconstruct the scene. ‘It was quite a minor incident, Mr Dryden. We had to deal with that kind of thing a lot then.’

‘It was the morning after they’d seen Gedney – you must remember…’

She rose. ‘Must I? Must I really?’

Dryden sensed anger again and held up his hands by way of capitulation. ‘Sorry. I know it is a long time ago.’

She took her seat again. ‘Yes. And don’t forget, we didn’t know any of that then. It was just another case of petty theft, as I say – and not the first.’ She downed the wine and picked up his empty tumbler. ‘Can I get you another malt?’

While Fleet poured the drinks they talked in low whispers. When she ferried them to Dryden’s table she’d recovered her composure completely, her chin held elegantly high. ‘I do recall it, of course, and I know why. We’d asked the security guards to keep an eye out after dark – there was always some petty theft, as I said, but things had got worse. The problem was keeping the police out – it’s not a great advert for a fun-filled holiday. And the staff get jumpy too. That night there’d been a disturbance in one of the chalets and the guard had gone down to check things out. A domestic, of course; people always take the opportunity to throw our ornaments on holiday rather than their own.’

Dryden let the whisky burn his throat.

‘Anyway, he was down there and he saw the children running back through the camp – this was late, after 10.30. He didn’t see where the boys went but the girl’s chalet was by the main pool, and he said he saw her putting something under the hut. Next morning he asked Chips to have a look… Once they’d found the stuff, they checked the brother’s hut, too.’

‘Why Chips?’

‘First up. It was one way he avoided people. He’d do the pool, checking the chemicals, netting any leaves or rubbish. I was usually up for seven – but Chips had been up an hour by then, more. He’d just creep out of bed with the dawn.

‘Anyway, they found plenty of stuff. Sad, really – we couldn’t take kids like them ever again after that – kids from the orphanage. But we take young offenders, outward bound in the autumn – so we do our bit – but they come with their social workers so we don’t have to worry.’

Dryden nodded. ‘Why was it unfortunate that Chips was involved?’

‘We didn’t call the police – nothing like that; it’s hardly ever worth it, and, as I said, we don’t relish the publicity. But Chips had to face these kids, and he had to make a statement which we sent to the authorities – the council for the girl and a Catholic orphanage for the boys. It was very stressful for him, too much really. We’d been considering getting him away all that summer, but that was the trigger. I guess these days we’d say he had a breakdown. We found him in the dunes later that day. So he went away – a private clinic near Lynn.’

‘Which is where he was arrested for the murder of Paul Gedney.’

‘Indeed.’

‘This guard – the one who spotted the kids – do you have a name?’

‘Um…’ She looked towards the office. ‘I’m sure we’ll have it on record. Dad was meticulous about the staff. I could check… tomorrow perhaps?’

Dryden smiled, leaning forward, thinking that tomorrow DI Reade would be running the investigation. ‘No chance tonight? I’d really like to get something wrapped up for my paper. If someone framed Chips then there’s a good chance they framed the kids as well. This security guard has never been interviewed, none of this was part of the original inquiry.’

She smiled, not moving. Dryden realized she had the strength and the will to defy him. He listened to the clock over the bar chime the hour.

‘There is still a chance, Mrs Connor, that the police will be forced to reopen Chips’ file. George Holme is pressing the Chief Constable’s Office to at least review the case. If they do they will want to talk to this man. Whoever framed the kids almost certainly killed Paul Gedney. Wouldn’t it be a bright idea to try and find him now?’

She couldn’t fault the logic. ‘Bring your drink,’ she said, standing. They went behind the bar and down a short corridor with panelled walls to the foot of a narrow staircase which led up a single flight to a landing.

Ruth Connor struggled with a double lock to the only door. ‘This is daft. I can see that man as clearly as I can see you. It’s just his name… I think it was Jack – but that’s not much good on its own, is it?’