The Cipher Garden by Martin Edwards Read Free Book Online

restaurant, she’d needed to get away. Driving on autopilot, she’d wound up at Grizedale Forest, and parked near the old Hall. Would they miss her if she never showed up again? Oliver, how would he react? Would he suffer a pang of regret?
    She crossed the high bridge. On the other side of the water, a circle of steel glinted from the branches of a spreading copper beech. Each familiar landmark she passed calmed her, made her feel more secure. Further on, lights powered by the sun flickered in an elaborate beehive hanging high in the trees. From the river, she heard the shouts of paddling children and the conversation of their parents. Somehow she couldn’t imagine having kids of her own. Plenty of time, her mother said, but that wasn’t the point.
    The track emerged from a leafy tunnel into open grassland and she subsided on to a large carved seat, allowing the sight of fields and fells to wash over her.
    She glanced at her watch. Oh God, better get going.
    Jumping to her feet, she felt her muscles straining. She’d need to get into shape before her next parachute jump. As for Oliver, she would not give in. She would see this through.
     
    ‘You never said if you fancied anyone as Warren’s killer,’ Hannah said.
    ‘That’s right, I didn’t.’
    Nick was sitting at his desk in the corner of the CCR team’s room. He was entitled to an office of his own and there’d been talk of him sharing with Les Bryant, who had come out of retirement to give the team the benefit of his wisdom on the fine art of murder investigation. Whether Nick’s preference for remaining in the thick of things was down to an egalitarian impulse or a wish to escape being holed up with the dourest of Yorkshiremen, Hannah wasn’t sure. Right now her sergeant’s gaze was fixed on the computer screen. With all the ringing phones and competing conversations, his voice was so quiet that she had to bend over his shoulder to hear his reply. His aftershave had a subtle tang.
    ‘Any particular reason?’
    ‘Nobody believed it was a stranger homicide. Finding evidence to justify an arrest was a different story.’
    ‘You must have had your suspicions.’
    He’d been scrolling through his emails, scrapping routine messages. The sight of his still-overcrowded inbox made him sigh. ‘Why do people send out so much garbage? Half the stuff I’m copied in on isn’t worth a glance. Talk about information overload.’
    They often cried on each other’s shoulder about the time-wasting bureaucracy of the modern police service. But she could spot a diversionary tactic a mile off.
    ‘Did you have a hunch?’
    ‘Remember the Gospel according to Ben Kind? Theories are for losers.’
    A shrewd blow, if below the belt. She hadn’t just been the late Ben Kind’s sergeant, she’d been his disciple. Ben had taught her more about police work than all the trainers in Hendon put together and, though it had taken her years to admit it, even to herself, her affection for him had teetered on the brink of something more serious. More dangerous. Not long after retiring he’d been killed in an accident, with so many things unspoken between them. She still mourned him, still thought about him now and then. She could still hear the scorn in his voice at team briefings when eager subordinates indulged in fanciful speculation. Like Nick said, theories were for losers.
    ‘OK, you win.’
    He stabbed delete with his forefinger one last time, then turned to face her. ‘It’s not about winning. The simple truth is that we never came near to making an arrest. If you ask me, this so-called tip-off won’t take us any closer.’
    ‘I’m not long back from Old Sawrey.’
    ‘So that’s why you disappeared. Off to catch up on the village gossip?’
    She shook her head. ‘I just wanted to get a feel of the place before I summoned up the energy to plough through the rest of the files. I see that Bel Jenner and her chef hold the licence of The Heights jointly.’
    ‘Oliver