Richard said testily. ‘It’s a cave, and people used to live in it. You have to climb steps to get there. We’re pretty sure he went up alive.’
‘Unless the murderer was the reigning Mr Universe,’ Craig said.
‘Yes, yes, or the victim was a zombie, climbing glassy-eyed and un-dead up to the cave house.’ Richard was in a creative mood.
‘Did it to himself then.’ Craig’s tone was scathing. He clearly had little time for the suicidal.
‘We don’t know. There were some odd things about it. Meg’ll fill you in.’
I moved sideways into the hot spot; steeled myself. An unnerving smirk crept across Craig’s fleshy face.
I told them about the probably poisoned cake, the carving on the cave wall, and the strange fact of the man’s initials appearing under it.
‘Was it home-made or shop-bought cake?’ Jai jiggled his leg up and down as if he was keen to sprint off and get started.
‘Bloody hell, Jai, have you been on the speed again?’ Craig said.
‘We don’t know for sure.’ I ignored Craig. I’d noticed that was what Richard did – his years of experience hadn’t given him a more advanced strategy. ‘The wrapper had a paper label stuck to it saying “Susie’s Cakes” and it had a “best before” date months away.’
‘Interesting,’ Jai said, also ignoring Craig. ‘What’s the history of the cave house?’
‘That bit of cliff hasn’t been quarried since pre-Victorian times. They think the cave house was created in the mid 1800s and people lived in it until about fifty years ago.’
Jai said, ‘I heard it was supposed to be haunted.’
Craig snorted.
‘It could be relevant,’ I said. ‘If it affects people’s behaviour.’
‘It’s why no one goes in there,’ Jai said. ‘No kids or tramps or anything.’
Craig made ridiculous X-Files noises. But Jai was right about no one going in the cave house. There’d been none of the usual beer cans, fag-butts or tortured teenage poetry.
Richard elbowed me out of the way. ‘Thank you, Jai, but I don’t think this man was killed by a ghost. Anyway, back to the cake.’ He swung his gaze around the room like Derren Brown about to reveal something astonishing. ‘We’ve already tried to trace “Susie’s Cakes” and there seems to be no such company. Unless it’s incredibly obscure.’
‘Won’t be obscure for long if they put cyanide in their cakes,’ Jai said. Gentle snickering passed through the room. Richard shot Jai a disapproving look.
‘Okay.’ Jai pursed his lips as if to emphasise that he was now being serious. ‘So someone put cyanide in the cake and made it look like shop-bought so he’d think it was okay and eat it? So, we’re talking murder, not suicide?’
‘Bit hasty there, Jai.’ Craig folded his chunky arms over his fledgling beer gut. ‘It could be suicide but he made it look like murder so his dependants still get his life insurance.’
‘If he gave a shit about his family, he wouldn’t have killed himself,’ Jai said. I took an audible breath before I could stop myself and Jai glanced at me, his face turning purple. I smiled weakly at him and mouthed reassurances. I didn’t want people walking on eggshells around me.
‘Yes,’ I said, trying to take control again. ‘It could be murder or suicide or deliberate contamination of cakes.’
‘If it’s not suicide, it’s probably the wife.’ Richard had recently been through a difficult divorce.
‘Yes, I’m keeping an open mind too.’ I couldn’t let that go, but statistically speaking he was probably right.
‘Who found him?’ Jai was bouncing his leg again, probably just to annoy Craig now.
‘A Labrador. It was after the cake.’
‘Is it okay?’
‘Didn’t think your lot liked dogs,’ Craig said.
I smiled at Jai. ‘He’s fine. We think he only ate—’
‘The dog’s fine, Jai.’ Richard rocked on his heels. ‘It’s admirable that you’re all so concerned about our loyal canine friends, but we do have a dead man as well as a slightly queasy dog.’
‘So he died in a haunted cave,’ Jai said. ‘And there was a hundredyear-old carving on the cave wall that seemed to predict his death?’
I gave a slow, deliberate nod.
Jai had stopped fidgeting. ‘Do we need to call an exorcist?’
*
We ended the briefing and everyone dispersed to do their stuff. I turned for another look at the photographs, and sensed Craig standing behind me, too close again.
‘I hope you’re up to this,’ he said.
I spun round. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
He raised his eyebrows and shrugged.
I felt the blush come over me, hot and sharp like needles.
‘Are you alright?’ Craig said. ‘You’re sweating like a paedo in a Santa suit.’
‘Yes, thank you, Craig, I’m perfectly fine.’
He took a step closer. His breath smelt of mint and stale garlic. ‘Don’t worry,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll be keeping an eye on you.’
I retreated to my work-station and sat staring at my screen. Sweat prickled my back. I’d come to Derbyshire to get away from this. To make a new start, wipe the slate clean, and various other clichés. I couldn’t let an idiot like Craig get to me. I sat up straighter in my chair and forced my shoulders back. I’d just have to show them I was up to the job. I had a good brain. I was a good detective.
My little pep talk sounded unconvincing even to me – like those motivational posters you see on the walls of ailing companies, or the pseudo-profound positive quotes on your most depressed friends’ Facebook pages. But I forced myself out of my chair and went to find Jai. He and I were visiting the victim’s wife that evening.
‘What a total arsehole Craig is,’ he said. ‘He’d be having a go at me if he wasn’t so scared of the PC brigade.’
I felt my shoulders soften. ‘Yeah, maybe.’
‘And if he hadn’t heard I was a psycho.’
I laughed. ‘Maybe I need to get more violent.’
Jai smiled, but then his face creased into concern. ‘Watch him though. He can be a nasty bastard.
