Chapter Text
Dalgliesh frowned at the photographs taken, sent by the local police. Three couples, all dead. All from supposed gas leaks.
Kate was looking at the photographs too. The burnt out candles, half eaten dinners and empty wine glasses. Belongings were not takenn, so clearly, these were not robberies but the lives of newlyweds simply enjoying their lives before those lives were cruelly cut short.
“Theres no obvious pattern, aside from the fact they are newlyweds.” Miskin observed.
Dalgliesh folded his arms, “Yes. At the same chain of cottages, however. What about the owners?”
“Richard and Pamela Goss, have been interviewed twice and found cooperative and grieved. The investigation has stalled.” Kate read from the file.
"Some weirdo is jealous that other people are happy, or what?” Tarrant suggested. It was a sound motive, after all and one of the oldest.
“There is envy and there is this.” Dalgliesh frowned, “This is particular.”
Kate agreed. One boiler leak was one thing, but three at the same retreat? It was far from coincidence and more the sign of an organised serial killer.
Tarrant suddenly had a thought, “Maybe you two should go down there, have a nosey around as a married couple.”
Both Kate and Dalgliesh looked at him, wanting him to explain further.
“Well, I doubt the killer is going reveal themselves if we all just nose around as cops. But if they think a newly married couple are in the area.”
“That is ridiculous.” Kate scolded.
Tarrant grinned, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”
Their glares were matching but it did not deter him, “You two already have the married thing down.” he quipped before walking off.
Kate looked at Dalgliesh who was staring at the board again, seemingly deep in thought.
Commander Rickards looked at both his officers. Sure, the squad could be unconventional but this was new. Standing in this office, Dalgliesh and Kate had briefed him on their thoughts around an undercover op, as Tarrant had suggested.
Unfortunately, he had the same idea.
“Given that the murders are of married couples, we need a married couple and the two of you would do well, in my opinion.” Rickards stated.
He glanced between Dalgliesh and Kate with the expression of a man who has decided not to examine what he is doing too closely. Rumours about his old friend and his DI were not his business to wade into.
Dalgliesh looked at Kate, who stared back, “Okay.” she finally agreed and he nodded. He always took her lead on such matters.
“I do hate it when Tarrant is taken seriously.” Kate joked, trying to liven the tense atmosphere in the office. Rickards seemed to relax, hand on his forehead.
“Simon, are you quite well?” Dalgliesh asked, frowning.
Rickards nodded quickly, “Yes. Let's try to wrap this up quickly. Last thing we need are more murders or media imagination.”
Over the next few days, they worked on crafting their identities. DC Paul Morrow, the local cop who had called the Met for help sounded relieved that reinforcements were on the way, a nice change.
They were to be Kate and Adam Seaton - he was an academic and writer and she was a photographer. They had been married six months and finally taking time off for a honeymoon. They had the IDs and rings to prove it.
Those rings, Kate had been fiddling with since returning to her flat. She was packing a mixture of her clothes and clothes that the commissioner's wife - a surprisingly involved socialite - thought would suite her.
Kate was trying not to think too hard about being married to Adam Dalgliesh, in a manner of speaking. She was slightly frustrated with Tarrant, who did not seem to want to push himself for this assignment. But she supposed it was rather nostalgic, her and Dalgliesh, alone.
The phone rang and Kate frowned, confused. It was half nine, who would call her now?
“Hello?” she said into the receiver.
“Kate.”
Dalgliesh. Of course it was him. Kate felt her heart pound at the use of her first name. He used it sparingly, out of the office. She supposed they would have to get used to it.
“Oh, hello, Adam.” Kate replied, hoping she did not sound as awkward as she felt.
“I just wanted to check in on you.” Dalgliesh said, “Before we set off tomorrow. How are you feeling?”
“I'm alright. A little apprehensive about becoming bait for a serial killer.”
She can hear the tight smile on his lips, “Understandable. Not an ideal situation to visit the Cotswolds together.”
Kate twisted the phone cord around her finger, “Can I ask you a daft question?”
“Your questions are never daft.”
“Does your ring feel weird?”
There was a beat of silence and Kate worried that she had crossed a line. Why would she ask a widower that?
“Is it too tight?” Dalgliesh asked instead. She could imagine him leaning forward, as though he could do something about it there and then as he always did when she hinted at anything being off, “I asked for a specific size.”
Kate shook her head, “No, if fits well. It's lovely,” It was a simple ring - a gold band with a peridot stone in the center, surrounded by two small pearls. But she caught his other words, "You know my ring size.”
She imagined him pausing by the window in his flat that faced the Thames, as though trying to find an answer that did not sound too intimate.
"I know your hands," he said, with the plainness of a man reporting a fact. "I've worked with you for a while now.” He paused. "I thought it should fit properly. That it would be — that the cover would be more convincing. If it fit."
Kate silently scolded herself, hand to her forehead. He was thorough, always through. The cover needed to be convincing and a badly-fitting ring or a ring that was wrong for the person wearing it was a flaw in the cover, a detail that could cost them credibility at the wrong moment.
“Well, thank you."
“Not at all. I'll pick you up at seven?”
“Seven is good.”
A beat. “Good night Kate.” Dalgliesh said softly.
“Good night.” She replied, placing the phone back on the receiver and letting our a long sigh.
She had been good and disciplined this far. She could do this.
Dalgliesh drove. Kate navigated, which she does with the same focused competence she brings to everything.
It was near midday when they arrive to the village of Stour Wending. Much like the rest of the Cotswolds, the village had an, absurdly beauty about it. The car went over a stony bridge and they both noted the tea room, the cathedral.
“This place could be in a painting.” Kate observed, narrowing her eyes slightly at an older woman carrying a weaved basket who waved at them, “Or maybe a novel.”
Dalgliesh glanced at her, something akin to amusement in his eyes, “Is that a compliment or insult?”
“I'm not sure yet.”
They arrived at their alloted cottage - Barley Cottage. It was just as idyllic as the rest of the village,.with beautiful stonework, a pretty clay-tiled porch and a charming front garden filled with roses, wisteria and lavender embraced the house.
Standing outside was Pamela Goss. They knew she was fifty three, dark hair and petite. Whilst dressed in typical country clothes, she also had a string of pearls around her neck, giving her the air of a country lady.
“Mr and Mrs Seaton?”
“Welcome.” Pamela beamed, “And congratulations!"
“Pamela,” Kate smiled softly, “Thank you so much for the notes, they were lovely.”
Hearthstone had been operating for six years. Richard had done most of the renovation— he has a gift for interiors, Pamela said, with a warmth about the fact that sounded entirely natural. The cottages had become something of a destination for "couples who want to begin properly," as she put it.
Inside was just as pretty, The welcome hamper was on the kitchen table - a wicker basket with a bottle of champagne standing at its centre, and local honey and chutney and a small round of cheese and two crystal glasses wrapped in tissue paper.
“Well, I shall leave you both to explore further.” Pamela said and they both smiled at her.
Pamela approached Kate, taking her hand and pressing it against hers, “I wish you both every happiness.”
They decided a walk in the village would help them learn their surroundings. It was just as pretty as the sun set, and Kate and Dalgliesh strolled, arm in arm.
When they reached the pub, they noticed a young woman sitting by herself at one of the outside tables. Her dark brown hair was tied up as she was glaring down at her notebook. Her glass of red wine was largely neglected. She looked up, seemingly having sensed them approach.
“Oh, hello. You two must be newlyweds or married people who are simply unafraid of one another. Not yet, anyway.” She remarked, eyes scrutinising before returning to her notes.
Dalgliesh nodded politely, no doubt filing this young woman away in his mind. “Have a lovely evening.” he said, placing his hand on Kate's lower back to lead her inside.
"She's definitely writing about us," Kate said.
"Almost certainly," Dalgliesh said.
"That's slightly alarming."
"I found her rather interesting."
"You would," Kate scoffed, smiling at him. He was a writer and always found small, sometimes odd things interesting that were often more important than they appeared.
The pub was warm and low-beamed and full of the particular smell of old English pubs. The barman nodded politely at the., whilst serving a regular.
“Hello there! Are you two the new Hearthstone couple?” The bar landlady asked, as she cleaned up a glass.
“Yes, we are. I'm Kate, this is my husband, Adam.” Kate said as Adam inclined his head.
A man nursing a beer lifted his head to look at the two of them. Kate noticed first but Dalgliesh noticed him just as quickly. The way he studied them beside returning to his half pint.
The older woman smiled, “We have a nice corner for you all. Just let us know what you would like, it's added to your account.”
They turned the corner to see a larger table with two other couples, no doubt staying in the other cottages. Adam and Kate exchanged glances. One of these two couples would be targeted by their killer next.
The first couple, slightly younger, were Joel and Laura. She was a school teacher, he was a new GP. They glowed in that way people who were young and married without any complications did. Joel had his arm around Laura, only releasing her to shake Kate and Dalgliesh's hands.
Graham and Susannah Cleave were the other Hearthstone guests. Graham is a commercial property developer expansive, name-dropping, the sort of man who asks about your career in order to tell you about his. He asks Dalgliesh several questions that are slightly too specific about his academic background.
Susannah smiles throughout and watches Kate in a way Kate clocks and doesn't like.
“You two are quite the unusual pair.” Susannah remarked.
Dalgliesh's eyebrow quirked and Kate knew he had clocked her as well.
“I was in politics, but this one tied me down.” Graham said, “She’s my conscience.” he chuckled at his own joke and everyone else smiled uncomfortably.
Laura beamed at Adam, “Tell me, what do you think of the brooding Scotsman over there?”
Dalgliesh looked at the man sitting at the bar. A large brooding man with light brown hair nursing a beer, not unlike the young writer outside.
“Poor Mr Macdonald. He's a writer too, apparently.” Susannah said, “His wife's passed. I wonder why he stays in a village full of newlyweds.”
“Perhaps he just enjoys Cotswolds.” Kate offered, “It can be cheering for everyone.”
Returning to the cottage that evening, Dalgliesh rang DS Morrow for background on the other couples, wishing to see who could be targeted next. He sighed in the living room after placing the phone in the receiver. He had already checked for bugs, so he could not exactly delay going to up to bed.
The bedroom had a low-beamed ceiling, white plaster walls, a wide window looking out onto the back garden, and at the centre of it all the bed. A proper king size bed,dressed in linen and the colour of fresh cream with a quilt at the foot in old gold. It was, objectively, a beautiful room. There was a small reading chair in the corner, a bedside table on each side, a vase of garden flowers on the windowsill.
The perfect honeymoon suite.
“I will take the couch.” Dalgliesh had insisted when they first arrived but Kate was not having it.
“Don't be ridiculous, we are adults.” Kate stated, “Besides, we need you sharp and married couples sleep together." Her voice went a little high at the end, but he did not say anything.
“Only if you are comfortable and sure.”
So he was now flicking through the files they had brought with them, sitting in the left side of the bed, ready to sleep. Almost.
“What of that Mr Macdonald?” Dalgliesh asked aloud, “What did you make of him?”
Kate stuck her head out of the bathroom. She had changed into her pyjamas and finished brushing her teeth, hoping to delay her own nerves about sharing a bed with him. She was fine. This was fine.
“He lost his wife, I don't think that could push a man to murder.” She stated.
Dalgliesh wrote something down in his notebook, “Perhaps it depends on how she died.” he murmured. Men had begun killing sprees for less. Perhaps
Kate looked at him, resisting the urge to squeeze his hand. So instead she changed the subject, “That Graham is rather slippery. Flirting despite his wife being there.” She waved her left hand. A man who was a shameless flirt was not always a murderer but he could be.
“He used to be an MP. I think it is the only way he knows how to speak to people.” Dalgliesh pointed out.
Kate snorted, “He would not get my vote.”
“He was charmed by you.”
“He's a toff.”
“I'm technically a toff.”
Kate looked at him as she tied up her hair in a silk scarf, “Yes, but aside from being a snob you actually have a job and you don't make me feel inferior,” she pointed out.
Dalgliesh mused over her words, lips twitching upwards, “Thank you. I think. I reject the accusation that I am a snob.”
“That's what a snob would say.” Kate retorted as she climbed into bed.
There was a sizeable gap between them, as the bed was bigger than it had looked upon first seeing it. It was comfortable too as Kate found herself pulling up duvet, settling against the plush pillows and letting our a long sigh.
“This is going to be tricky.” Kate sighed. There were no obvious suspects, a village full of strange people and here she was, sharing a bed with Adam Dalgliesh.
Tricky indeed.
“Yes. But we have done difficult cases before. No one else I'd rather face it with.” Dalgliesh stated, eyes still on his notebook.
“Me too.” Kate said quietly.
Dalgliesh looked at her, a small smile on his face. She looked so relaxed, like he imagined she would be at home. The idea of seeing Kate at night was never an unappealing idea; it was a comfort really. She looked safe.
“Adam?”
Kate's concerned voice brought him out of his inner musings and Dalgliesh quickly smiled and apologised, “Long day, we should get some sleep.” He then indicated to her head, “Can I ask..?”
Kate's hand flew up to her hair, feeling her cheeks warm. Too comfortable she thought to herself. It had been automatic. Domestic even.
“Oh, I always travel with one. For my hair. Most places don't have silk pillowcases. I apologise in advance if it falls off.” Kate explained, nervous. He was not judgemental, just curious.
“Goodnight Kate.”
“Goodnight Adam.”