possibility that she'll forget all about them by the
time she next sees DCI Boxham, I told her she might consider getting a bit of
exercise and walking the half-mile into the village to telephone him from the
public phone box. No way do I want her contacting DCI Boxham from the secret
mobile. If he gets its number, he might just think to track down her other
calls.’
Casey had felt
he had to tell Catt about this after he'd done so much to help. His warning to
Moon about using this mobile for such a call had been emphatic. If it occurred to
Boxham to trace her call back to their sole means of communication it would put
paid to any hope that Casey had that he would be able to remove his parents'
names from the list of murder suspects.
That this
mobile was the only means of communication between himself and his parents was
another anxiety to Casey. Because, as he confided to Catt, it could surely only
be a matter of time before Moon either forgot where she'd hidden it or, as had
happened to the previous mobiles he'd bought his parents, lost it altogether.
‘She could
always take up smoke signalling,’ Catt joked.
But while
aspects of this case might amuse ThomCatt, Casey couldn't afford such levity.
As he said, ‘With the number of smoke signals her and Star's illicit substances
have sent up over the years, I'd rather my parents stayed away from such
things. With his local knowledge and his familiarity with the commune and their
ways, Boxham would be only too likely to read such signals. And then where
would we be?’
‘Mm. So what
now? Do you want me to put the word out that we'd like to trace this Farrer
couple?’
‘No. Let the
official team do that. You'd have to spread the word way too widely to find
them as they could be anywhere in the country, maybe even abroad by now. Leave
it to the Lincolnshire force.’ Casey hesitated, then, because it was so
important, found himself breathlessly — anxiously — asking, ‘Your contact there
isn't beginning to fight shy of sharing further information, I hope? Because
without his input we're likely to flounder.’
‘No,’ Catt
reassured in his best breezy manner. ‘He's fine. Besides, he used to be a bit
of a hippie himself in his younger days; did the whole bit — the travelling
around India; the meditating; the drugs. Anyway, he loathes DCI Boxham, so
would be only too pleased to help us prove his determination to pin these
deaths on one or other of the commune members is wrongheaded and probably, nowadays,
politically incorrect as well.’
Catt drained
the rest of his vodka-laced coffee, rose, clapped a consoling hand on Casey's
shoulder and said, ‘I've got to get back to work. I'll keep you posted on what
I hear from my various sources. And stop worrying. I can't see either of your
parents murdering anybody.’
Casey nodded
and let Tom out, watching as he made his carefree way down the path and out of
the gate. He just wished DCI Boxham proved equally as magnanimous on the
subject. But, for the life of him and as hard as he tried, he didn't think it
at all likely.
Chapter Five
After Catt had
left, Casey made himself some more coffee and settled down to write up his
notes while events were still fresh in his mind until Rachel returned and he had
to pretend to be interested in continuing with their much looked-forward to
holiday. Various days and half-days out had been planned which he felt unable
to get out of.
Even though
they had a habit of periodically going off on trips, he had known all of the
more long-standing members of his parents' commune for a number of years. Now
he set about recalling as much as he could about them all.
Kali
Callender, the tear-free widow of the late Kris, had struck him on the few
occasions he'd encountered her as being almost as unpleasant a character as her
dead husband was reputed to be. Not for nothing had she been nicknamed for the
Hindu goddess Kali, known as ‘the Black One’, one of the most fearsome
of