Fear the Past Read online

  Caslin stepped over to the fence looking down at the immense concrete construction of the tiered sea wall defending the coastal cliffs from the ravages of nature. He tasted the salt on his lips as he cast an eye along the beach towards Whitby. The view was obscured by what appeared to be fog but Caslin knew better. The wind was whipping up the sand into a mist of sorts, obscuring the town in the distance.

  “I bloody love this place,” he said under his breath.

  “What’s that, sir?” Hunter called to him, returning from purchasing their ticket from the parking meter.

  “Nothing,” he replied, gesturing for them to head along the path. On the opposite side of the road, facing the sea, were a run of Victorian terraced houses along with a smaller group of more recent buildings. They all had signs picketed outside denoting they were for sale. For a brief moment, Caslin wondered what it would be like to live here but quickly dismissed the notion. There was no way he’d be able to afford one of those along the seafront.

  At the foot of the hill they found the road narrowing as it turned inland before crossing an inlet by way of a narrow stone bridge. Cars travelling in opposing directions needed to take turns in crossing. On the seafront itself, they walked past a tourist information office, a snack bar and an outfit where you could hire kayaks or surfboards. None of them were doing a roaring trade. Beyond those buildings, they entered an area set aside for the numerous small fishing boats pulled from the water and placed behind the sea wall.

  Ahead of them was the lifeboat station, its doors open with both the main boat, rigid-hulled inflatable and all-terrain track vehicle present and ready to be called upon. A few more commercial enterprises completed the run of buildings but they passed these. Calling at Scott Tarbet’s address earlier, they were directed here. The neighbours advised them he spent much of his time out on the water and even on days such as this could be found pottering around the sailing club. The sailing club was little more than a shack and a launching station for the locals to set off from or lift their boats from the water.

  One man could be seen sitting in the stern of an aging fishing boat. They approached him. He glanced over at them before returning his focus to what he was doing. As they came closer, Caslin could see he was either repairing or inspecting a net.

  “Scott Tarbet?” he called up.

  “Depends on who’s asking,” the man replied.

  “Detective Inspector Caslin,” he said, brandishing his warrant card. The man briefly looked down at them but clearly didn’t pay much attention to the identification.

  “In that case,” he said, putting the mass of blue netting down and standing up. Coming to the port side, he leant on the edge with both hands. “What can I do for you?”

  “We wanted to speak to you regarding your cousin, Philip Bradley,” Caslin said. “Specifically, about the day he died.”

  “Why on earth do you want to drag all that up for?” Tarbet protested. “I can’t see as there is anything more to say.”

  “Nice boat,” Caslin said, casting a glance over it. Tarbet nodded.

  “Yeah,” he said, glancing from bow to stern. “It’s seen better days but it gets me out on the water.”

  “A bit of a change to what you used to go out on the water in, isn’t it?” Hunter asked, referencing Tarbet’s former yacht. The man stared at her. She had touched a nerve, intentionally or otherwise.

  “Yes, it is,” he replied with no edge to his tone at all. “I’m presuming you know what happened to the last one then?” he said, looking first at Caslin and then to Hunter. They both nodded. “Ah well, it was all a long time ago. We used to love going out on the water, the wife and me. These days… it’s just not the same anymore.”

  “This your boat?” Caslin asked. Tarbet looked at him. Then he looked away.

  “Yes, this is my boat,” Tarbet asked. “What of it?”

  “Your last boat was more of a yacht wasn’t it?”

  “Things change,” Tarbet said, glancing at Caslin.

  “No one could blame you for losing your passion for sailing.”

  “I still have the passion just not the money,” Tarbet stated. “My lifelong dream was to have a boat like that. I guess you should be careful what you wish for.”

  “Did the insurance not cover a replacement?”

  “Insurance didn’t pay out. The bastards.”

  “I read in the file that there was some sort of question mark as to how the explosion occurred,” said Hunter.

  “Then why are you asking?”

  “Humour us,” Caslin said.

  “Question mark, you say? That’s a euphemism. Like things weren’t shit enough already,” Tarbet said, his shoulders dropping as he visually deflated. “As you’ve most likely read, they felt there was some kind of tampering with the fuel line. I’d wanted that boat all my life and they reckon after eighteen months I would burn it just for the money? Ridiculous. The insurance money wouldn’t have been enough to replace the damn boat.”

  “Did you fight it?” asked Caslin.

  “Still am,” Tarbet said. “But you didn’t come all this way to talk to me about my insurance claims, did you?”

  “No, we didn’t,” Caslin confirmed. “We wanted to ask you when was the last time you saw Philip Bradley?”

  Tarbet fixed him with a stare. His expression was mixed, one of anger and mild confusion. He held the eye contact for longer than was comfortable almost as if he was trying to gauge what answer Caslin might really be after. “What?”

  “You heard me right,” Caslin said. “I want to know when you last saw your cousin.”

  “Are you taking the piss?”

  Caslin shrugged, “No, I’m deadly serious.”

  “Well, if you are then you’ll already know,” Tarbet said. “I last saw him two years ago.”

  “The night he died?”

  “Yes,” Tarbet said, anger edging into his tone. “Not far from this spot,” he continued, looking over his shoulder and out at the North Sea. “And I see him every night in my dreams.”

  “You identified his body, didn’t you?” Hunter asked.

  Tarbet turned his gaze on her, “Yes. What of it?”

  “So, you would be very surprised to hear that Philip was alive and well until yesterday morning?”

  “What?”

  “It would appear your cousin Philip has been living in southern Spain for the last couple of years,” Caslin said.

  “Don’t be daft,” Tarbet dismissed the notion, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I watched him die out there… on my boat.”

  “So, he would like us all to believe,” Caslin said. Tarbet looked at him trying to take a measure of Caslin’s integrity, unsure whether Caslin was on the level.

  “Are you serious?”

  “We are interested to know who it was you identified as your cousin,” Hunter said. “Because somebody was buried but we know for certain it wasn’t Philip.”

  “But… but… it was Philip. I’m sure it was,” Tarbet stammered.

  “Apparently not,” Caslin said. “How could you have been mistaken?”

  “He was so badly burned,” Tarbet said, a confused expression on his face, thinking hard. “But I recognised his wedding ring and the clothes he was wearing matched his. At least, that’s what I remember. You must have made some kind of mistake.”

  “Quite sure we haven’t,” Caslin said. “What about the other two on the boat with you that night?”

  “What about them? They were Phil’s mates, not mine.”

  “Had you not met them before?”

  “No, I hadn’t. Phil asked me to take them out on the water as a favour. If I’d known how it was going to turn out I would have said no.”

  “What can you tell us about that night?” Caslin asked.

  “We had had a good day. They were a decent enough bunch of guys. I wanted to head back in but they insisted on staying out. They wanted to see the coastline lit up after dark. The weather was good, so I didn’t see an
y harm. Phil wanted to go below and put his feet up. I figured it was a mixture of alcohol and the waves. Some people really struggle once they’re out on the water. To this day I still don’t know what happened but there was a fire. It quickly took hold.”

  “The fuel line,” Caslin said.

  “So they say. I was bringing the sails in so that we could return to the harbour. I always did so under the motor and it was when I initiated the engine that everything went wrong. The controls didn’t respond and I went to go below to check what was going on and that’s when I saw the flames. I called out to Philip but he didn’t answer.”

  “What happened then?” Hunter asked.

  “The others began to panic,” Tarbet stated. “I can’t blame them. It was dark and we were some way off the coast. The electricity shorted out soon after and we were thrown into complete darkness. I had to rely on battery backups to put in the emergency call. It was an easy decision to make to abandon ship. At least it would have been if Phil had been with us. I had no choice.”

  “The three of you left together?” Caslin asked.

  Tarbet nodded, “We pulled the life raft and got off as quickly as we could. We kept calling for Phil but he never answered and he never came back above deck.”

  “And you are sure he was still below?”

  “I don’t see how he could not have been,” Tarbet stated. “Then there was the explosion.”

  “The report we have says the yacht sank as it was being towed back to port. Is that right?”

  “That’s right. The boat capsized. The explosion must have holed it under the water. The water put the fire out so by the time the lifeboat crew got to us they were able to retrieve Phil’s body before the boat sank.”

  “How was his health in the time before the lead up to his death? I mean, before the accident at sea?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Are you aware of any illness that he was suffering from?” Caslin asked. Tarbet thought about it for a moment before shaking his head.

  “Fine as far as I know but he probably wouldn’t have told me, anyway. We weren’t all that close,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m just trying to get a picture of the man. Have you any idea why he would fake his death?”

  Tarbet shook his head, “No. It’s like something out of a film.”

  “How often did you see each other?” Hunter asked.

  “On and off… occasionally, family events and suchlike.”

  “Are you surprised by any of this?”

  “Damn right, I am," Tarbet said with a snort of laughter. “You say he died yesterday? What happened?”

  “Car accident.”

  “What was he doing?”

  “That’s exactly what we are trying to find out,” Caslin said. “You identified him because you were his closest next-of-kin. You mentioned his wedding ring, was he married?”

  “Divorced. He had been for a while. Marion went on some around the world trip with her sister. When she got back, she didn’t fancy waiting hand and foot on Phil anymore.”

  “She left him?”

  “Quicker than you can book a plane ticket!” Tarbet said, shaking his head. “Don’t blame her, really.”

  “Why not?”

  “Phil was a control freak, always had to be the one to make the final call on everything. I’ll bet she couldn’t breathe.”

  “You seem remarkably calm about all this,” Caslin said.

  “What were you expecting? Did you think I would jump up and down… scream or something? Not really my thing,” Tarbet argued. “Listen, I’ve got several years on you son, done a few more laps of the track if you know what I mean? There’s not a lot that will surprise me these days.”

  “I thought you might be pissed off. If a relative of mine screwed me over, I would be pretty annoyed.”

  “Well that’s where you are me differ, isn’t it?”

  “I guess it is, yes,” Caslin said. “Are you married?”

  Tarbet nodded slowly “I was.”

  “Did she take off with Marion as well?”

  “No, she died last year, but thanks for the memory.”

  Caslin looked away. He was seeking to ruffle the man’s feathers but hadn’t expected that answer. Now he felt pretty small and justifiably so. Hunter glanced at him. She didn’t have to say anything. Her disapproval was evident in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

  “How could you?” Tarbet said, his tone icy. “Are we done?”

  “Yes, we’re done,” Caslin said. “For now.”

  “You need me to identify the body again?” Tarbet asked. Caslin wasn’t sure if he was being serious or whether he was deliberately on the wind up.

  “No, I think we will manage. Besides, you did such a good job last time. Enjoy the rest of the day Mr Tarbet,” Caslin said, turning and walking away.

  “I’m not sure he deserved that,” Hunter said, catching up and falling into step alongside him.

  “Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t,” Caslin said. “Think about it. There was a body retrieved from his yacht after the fire. If it wasn’t Bradley, then who was it? Somebody died and no one seems too bothered about who that was. Unless you are going to tell me, Bradley sneaked a dead body onboard without anyone knowing then he must be in on it. If not, then I’ll feel suitably bad for the next couple of hours. Fair enough?”

  “Finding out that his cousin is still alive didn’t throw him much, did it?”

  Caslin shook his head. He was reluctant to read too much into Tarbet’s response. After all, people react to events in different ways, this job taught him that. Although, it was certainly possible that Tarbet was in on this from the start. The question then became - the start of what? Passing the building that housed the lifeboat, Caslin noted a member of staff aboard the rib. Nudging Hunter with his elbow, he indicated for them to step inside. Their arrival was noted as soon as they passed through the double doors.

  “Can I help you with something?” the man said, stepping out of the rib and coming to greet them. Caslin held open his wallet and displayed his warrant card.

  “Detective Inspector Caslin,” he said, introducing himself. The man made a cursory inspection of Caslin’s identification before nodding an acceptance of who he was talking to. “Are you a crew member of the lifeboat?”

  “For the last 15 years,” the man said, “what can I do for you?”

  “Do you remember a yacht catching fire, a couple years ago?” Caslin asked. “Four-man crew. Three were rescued and one was pulled dead from the hull.”

  “I remember. We get called out a lot but that one was always going to stick in the mind,” he said.

  “What can you tell us about it?” Hunter asked.

  “Not a lot more than you will be able to read in the official reports, I should imagine.”

  “Nothing stood out as unusual?” Caslin asked. The man smiled.

  “That was a weird one, I’ll tell you that. It’s not unusual for boats to catch fire but rarely do they explode. Not like that anyway.”

  “The insurance company thought the same,” Caslin said. The man bobbed his head.

  “Unsurprising,” he said. “Not a lot of things made sense that night. The explosion was just one of them.”

  “You’ve got my attention,” Caslin said. “Tell us about it.”

  “Not much to tell you, not really. Apart from the boat going up in such a manner as I’ve never seen before, not in thirty years at sea. No, it was more the reaction of the crew that struck me at the time.”

  “Reaction?” Caslin said.

  “If it were me, I would have been shitting myself but they were pretty calm when we plucked them out of the water.”

  “We were just talking to the skipper,” Caslin said. “He described the others as panicking.”

  “Not when we got there. You would have thought they’d hailed a taxi. It was really weird and I wasn’t the only one to think so either.”

 
“Do you know the skipper, Scott Tarbet?” Caslin asked. The man met his eye and glanced away.

  “I see him around, yes. We’re not friends, though. I don’t think he has many friends.”

  “Why not?” Hunter asked. The man laughed.

  “You’ve met him. He’s a hard man to like,” he explained. Checking his watch, he raised an eyebrow. “Is there anything else because I really need to be somewhere?”

  “Thank you for your time,” Caslin said. The man left and headed into his office, turned off the monitor on his desk and then picked up his coat which was hanging next to the door. Caslin looked at Hunter. “Do you still think I was out of order?”

  Hunter shook her head. “What do you want to do now?”

  “I think we should talk to the others on the boat that night, don’t you?”

  “Well, we know Greg Tower is dead and that leaves only one other person on the boat that we can speak to.”

  “What’s up, Sarah?” Caslin asked playfully. “Are you worried Chief Superintendent Ford won’t be pleased to see us?” Hunter shook her head. Caslin was right. They needed to speak to Ford but at the same time, the man she was walking with didn’t always respect the rank.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The drive from the east coast of Yorkshire across the Pennines to the west of England took just shy of three hours. It was a good job they called ahead. Chief Superintendent Ford agreed to wait for them, albeit under protest. It was well after dark when they reached the station in Manchester. Hunter’s satellite navigation system had struggled once inside the city limits, frequently dropping its connection but they managed to make it to their destination all the same. They were escorted up to the chief superintendent’s office by a constable from Greater Manchester Police. Knocking on the door a voice from inside bid them to enter. Caslin opened it, allowing Hunter to pass through first.