A Jess Bridges Mystery
Grey Stones
Joss Stirling
One More Chapter
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2021
Copyright © Joss Stirling 2021
Cover design by Lucy Bennett © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2021
Cover images © Shutterstock.com
Joss Stirling asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008422677
Ebook Edition © February 2021 ISBN: 9780008422660
Version: 2021-03-03
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Acknowledgments
Thank you for reading…
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About the Author
Also by Joss Stirling
One More Chapter...
About the Publisher
To Jamie and Clare
‘Silent, remote, for ages,
Weather beaten and grey,
Army and knights and King Stone
Have stood there to this day.’
The Rollright Stones: History & Legends in Prose and Poetry, F.C. Rickett
Chapter One
The Rollright Stones stood in their three-thousand-year-old circle waiting for the February sun to rise. Mist wound between them, slinking close to the ground. Muffled in a heavy coat, scarf and hood, a lone figure stood in their midst, as still as the limestone rocks. Some stones were as tall as a man, some huddled close to the earth like creeping beasts. No one ever managed to count their number the same twice because where one rock began and another ended was hard to fathom. Legend said they were the army of an ambitious king turned to stone, a punishment for his overweening ambition. His stone stood alone across the road on the next rise, frozen in place by a witch’s curse.
Or that was what the folk tale said.
The visitor now moved, turning slowly to revel in the silence after days of so much noise. This circle always drew you back, lodged inside you once visited. It was a place between things at this bleakest time of the year. A place of resolution. If you faced away from the road behind the trees, quiet at this hour, you could see was the sweep of the Swere Valley. That way lay Oxfordshire. Behind you, sprawled Warwickshire, birthplace of that critic of kings, William Shakespeare. The stones marked the border between the two counties, as well as the watershed between the Severn and the Thames. They divided kingdom from kingdom. Past and present. Living and dead.
The sun crept over the horizon, flushing the sky pink. If you stood here at the spring equinox, that light would fall straight through the hole bored on one of the circle rocks. Lying down, humbling yourself, to look through it, you would discover that it lined up like a rifle sight with another monument. This was a cluster of megaliths called the Whispering Knights, a field away, leaning in to plot treason, a second crime scene. The two stone clusters might seem unconnected but the traitors had also been hit by the witch’s curse – though that seemed unfair if their plans had been laid against a king who deserved petrification.
The grey stones could be read as monuments to ambition, betrayal, and collateral damage. The watcher walked back to the car. It had been an excellent place to come to terms with murder.
Chapter Two
Leo
What was the worst that could happen, wondered Leo, when he introduced Jess to his university friends? She could hate them. They could hate her. Being locked away for three days in a lakeside retreat would be an intense introduction to his old circle – some of whom, to be honest, he no longer knew that well. One of whom he had never even liked.
He flicked the indicator and pulled out to overtake a green-clad cyclist, giving her plenty of space. So why was he doing this? He found relationships like playing blind man’s buff in a field of open mine shafts: he never knew when he was going to make an irreversible misstep. He supposed he had agreed to bring Jess because he was trying hard to be more open with his girlfriend of two months, having had other relationships founder on the rock of his introverted nature. He wanted Jess to get on with them, particularly Freddie, Lauren, and Rainbow; but now he came to think of it, this was a huge gamble.
He glanced in the driver’s mirror, wondering if there was still time to do a U-turn and head back to Oxford. He could always say work had called him away. Life as a detective inspector in Thames Valley was never predictable so the excuse would be entirely believable. However, there was a Range Rover right on his tail, making a sudden brake impossible, and maybe Jess would think he was ashamed of her?
Relax, Leo. It was only for a weekend, he reminded himself. There was lots to do at the clubhouse if the lakeside cottage got too much. The two of them could always escape for walks in the Cotswolds countryside if it was really going badly. This was a beautiful spot even at the tail end of winter – rolling green hills, little woods, and clusters of thatched cottages and limestone churches. No wonder so many of the rich and powerful, from former prime ministers to media stars, chose to live and socialise around here.
A sigh came from his companion. It seemed he was not the only one anxious about the reunion. Jess was staring out as the frosted lanes zipped by. Bare oaks stood sentinel in scraped fields. Sheep huddled around feeding troughs. Brown hedges. Little birds seeking refuge. She pulled down the mirror in the sunshade and he saw her frowning at her reflection. Not that Leo could see anything wrong: Jess had a sweetly rounded face, shoulder-length blonde hair, currently kept back by Art Deco butterfly slides from the V&A exhibition they’d gone to last month. She had curves under her powder-blue lambswool jumper that he knew to be soft and inviting. All this packed into a small frame. She was only a few inches over five foot and refused to own up to exactly how many. His professional guess was three.
‘What if they take against me?’ she asked.
‘They won’t.’ Leo slowed for a junction as a supermarket lorry made a slow turn.
‘They will. I didn’t go to that fancy schmancy college of yours.’
‘You’ve got a master’s in Psychology from UCL. You’re probably the most academic among us.’
‘But I didn’t live in a castle while I did it, eating dinners in a hall that looks like Hogwarts.’
‘Castle is just like an Oxford college. You’re used to that, aren’t you?’
‘As a humble member of the admin staff.’ Jess worked in the Development Office of St Nicholas’ College, a temporary job while she established her missing persons agency as a going concern. Work had picked up lately, but she’d not yet felt brave enough to swap a reliable income for that of the self-employed.
‘Jess, you’re doing it again.’
‘Doing what?’ She nibbled on her bottom lip.
‘Playing down your own success. You got me to read Lean In. I know the signs of female disempowerment,’ he teased. Jess had been going through a Me Too self-education phase. Leo thought that a lot of quiet men like him could learn from it as well.
She perked up at the mention of the book on women in positions of power. ‘You think I just need to “lean in” to your friendship group?’
‘I think you just need to be yourself. They’ll love you.’
‘Aw.’ She smiled now at her reflection and snapped the sunshade back up in place. ‘Inspector George, I can’t wait to get you in our four-poster bed tonight. I think it’s my turn to be in charge?’
He grinned at that. ‘Only for round one.’
‘You’re on.’
Perhaps the weekend wasn’t going to be so bad after all?
They drove through the estate gates, following the gravel road past the stately home that was now the clubhouse, and drew up outside one of the lakeside cottages at eleven, an hour later than the agreed arrival time. Jess had inevitably been running behind when he collected her, caught up arranging for a willing neighbour to dog-walk her spaniel, Flossie. This meant Leo and Jess had missed the start of the weekend’s activities.
Jess’s mouth dropped open at the prospect before them. ‘This is a cottage? Sure you’ve got the right address?’ She wriggled out of her seat, grabbed her phone and opened the maps app.
Leo got out his side. ‘Definitely the right place. And I guess it is a cottage – just a super-sized one.’ Leo began laughing, as surprised as she was. The online photos hadn’t done justice to the scale of the place. It looked like a Nordic log cabin, but huge – more of a feasting hall – complete with a decking area that jutted out over the lake. Smoke rose from the two chimneys either end of the building. ‘I hope this gives me boyfriend points?’
‘You bet! You didn’t tell me it was one of those Birbeck clubs! Oh, my God: listen to this! “Stay in one of our luxury lakeside lodges, or in our woodland cabins. Then enjoy the five-star amenities in our clubhouse, where you can choose from our three restaurants, bar, casino, library, games room, swimming pool and spa.”’ She gave him a hug, then did a little boogie with her phone. ‘You’ve set me up with my dream, Leo. I know the Birbeck brothers have the reputation in the media as pretty ruthless business moguls but you have to admit that they know how to do luxury.’
Her delight made everything feel so much better. ‘I live to please my lady.’ Three cars and a club van were already parked outside their one. ‘Come on – I think we might be the last to arrive.’
‘I’ll murder your friends if they’ve stolen the four-poster.’ She grinned up at him. ‘I know that’s not fair, what with you being a murder cop and all, but I’m just saying. Prepare to arrest me.’
Leo got their case out of the back of the car. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t need to crack out the handcuffs. It was all agreed in advance.’
She pretended to be disappointed. ‘When we get home then?’
He laughed. Only Jess.
‘How can we afford this, Leo? Are your friends loaded?’ Her worried look had returned.
He shook his head. ‘Not really, but the manager of the club is a good friend of Freddie and Lauren. Rebecca – we’ll probably meet her too. It’s low season so she’s been able to upgrade us.’
‘So who’s sleeping where?’
‘Freddie and Lauren are at the far end. Janice and Phil are with us down this side, each taking one of the twin bedrooms. That leaves us the last double.’
‘We’ll have a view out over the water? Fabulous.’ They paused to take in the lake with its mercury-tinted surface, fringed by willows and brown sedge. Two swans flew overhead with their strangely squeaky wings. They skimmed the lake to land on the far side.
Leo held out a hand. ‘Ready to face them?’
She took it in hers and squeezed. ‘I’m sticking to you like glue.’
They went up the short flight of steps to the decking area by the front door. A jumble of walking boots already lay there. Leo opened the door and they walked straight into a noisy gathering around the dining table in a high-ceilinged living area. It occupied the centre of the lodge, going the whole height to the rafters, dividing the two bedroom areas from each other. The smell of bacon and coffee hit, making his mouth water. The counter that divided the dining area from the space-age kitchen was covered with breakfast dishes. A chef in a white hat was tossing pancakes over a steaming stove. A waiter in a green uniform ferried the food to the guests. An auburn-haired woman restocked plates of pastries and fruit – that was Freddie and Lauren’s friend, Rebecca.
‘Leo! You made it!’ Freddie bounded up from his place at the head of the table, almost spilling his orange juice in his hurry. Fortunately, Lauren was on hand to catch it. ‘And you must be Jess!’ He arrowed towards them, looking as fit as ever, his friendly blue eyes twinkling. The main difference from the rowing-mad twenty-year-old Leo best remembered from college was the receding nut-brown hair and slight softening about the jaw. Freddie wasn’t bald yet, but was certainly baring more of his forehead to the battering of time.
‘Sorry we’re a little late,’ Leo said, wincing slightly as Freddie gave him an enthusiastic hug. His friend had the energy of a Golden Retriever. ‘Jess, this is Freddie Forrester.’
‘I’d quite despaired of ever getting you to one of our bashes, Leo,’ Freddie declared, giving him an extra squeeze. ‘I’m so pleased the new lady changed your mind about that.’ He turned to Jess. ‘May I?’ He held out his arms.
Unlike Leo, Jess was the hugging kind so didn’t turn him down. ‘Nice to meet you, Freddie.’
Freddie broke away and beamed. ‘I like this one. We’ll try not to do anything to scare her off.’ He linked his arm in Jess’s and moved her to the table. ‘Jess, this is my wife, Lauren.’
Lauren greeted Jess. She still had her pale, elfin face, though she had chopped off the long hair of her twenties to a sleek bob, longer at front so it emphasised her cheeks by coming to a point either side. A straight fringe set off her dark-blue eyes. Slim to the point of painfulness, Leo found it hard to imagine she was the mother of three young children.
‘Hello, Lauren. What have you done with the children?’ he asked, accepting a kiss on the cheek.
‘At the grandparents’, no doubt being spoiled rotten,’ said Lauren.
‘Our tribe,’ said Freddie proudly. ‘Three children in eighteen months. What were we thinking, Lauren?’
‘Well, I certainly wasn’t thinking “twins” the second time around.’ She smiled up at Leo. ‘You’ve hardly changed, Leo – it’s not fair. Portrait in the attic? It’s so lovely to see you again. I was just saying to Janice that it’s been too long.’
Leo felt a little tightening in the pit of his stomach. First mineshaft. He’d meant to mention to Jess that an old girlfriend from college days was going to be at the weekend but had never found the right moment. To say something might’ve made it sound like it meant too much and now it was too late. He turned to his old flame who was sitting at the other end of the table. Her beauty hit him afresh. Had he really ever dated someone who looked like that?
‘Janice, how are you?’ he asked, aware he sounded a little too formal.
She gave him a wave. ‘Good, but jet-lagged.’ Her voice had a transatlantic drawl these days. ‘I flew in from LA yesterday and I’ve still not adjusted.’
Janice, an actress, was now building a career in American TV. She wore her black hair in a long, sleek mane curled over one shoulder. Big gold hoop earrings brushed shoulders bared by the boat neckline of her white top, a stunning contrast with her dark skin. She didn’t look the least tired. She looked catwalk ready.
‘This is Jess,’ Leo said gamely. He didn’t hold out much hope that the two women would like each other. They were too different.
‘Hello, Jess. I googled you.’ Janice popped a strawberry in her mouth. ‘When I heard you were coming.’
Jess’s hand twitched in his grasp as if she was thinking of running. He gave her a reassuring squeeze. There was some embarrassing stuff about her if you dug deep online, as well as the more recent involvement in a number of murder cases in Thames Valley. How much had Janice found out? Leo wondered.
‘I hope the pictures were flattering?’ Jess tried a brave smile.
‘They made you look younger.’ Janice dabbed her mouth with the napkin. ‘Missing Persons Agency? Is that, like, a job?’
‘Trying to make it into one,’ Jess said, leaning forward in a parody of their remarks in the car. Leo smiled. She was up to this battle.
‘Good for you.’ Janice flicked her wrist towards her breakfast buddy. ‘Phil, aren’t you going to say “Hello” to Leo and Jess?’
Leo steeled himself. He and Phil Harwood had never got on, even at college when they sometimes played squash together. They were the two remote planets either end of this solar system with Freddie, Lauren, Janice, and Rainbow in the middle, holding them together. ‘Good to see you again.’
Phil just nodded, barely looking at him.
Freddie clapped his hands. ‘Enough with the introductions. We’ve a whole weekend to get to know Jess. Pull up a chair and dig in before Phil and I eat all the pancakes.’
Jess wisely chose a chair next to Freddie. Leo sat next to her, which put him opposite Phil and closest to Janice. Not ideal but it was the only seat open next to Jess and he’d promised not to abandon her.
‘Where’s Rainbow? Isn’t she coming?’ Leo asked Janice. Rainbow was the one he was hoping Jess would really take to. She had developed to be very much like her fanciful name, always shining in cloudy moments, relentlessly optimistic and finding a kind word for everyone.
‘We’re going on a walk to meet her after breakfast,’ Janice said. She had the oddest ability to sound bored by herself and the person she was talking to. A sigh never seemed far off. ‘She’s driven here in a motorhome but they don’t have permission to park it on the club grounds.’
Leo selected a croissant from under the heavy white napkin that kept it warm. ‘Are you saying she’s finally living her dream of being on the road?’
Janice sipped her fizzy water. ‘Seems so. She’s got together with Lloyd. You remember him, Lloyd Rumbold? Freddie and Lauren’s Lloyd?’
Leo had a clear and not very positive recollection of the city broker who was a friend of Freddie and Lauren’s. After Durham, their close-knit college friendship group had been diluted with new additions from London, Lloyd foremost amongst them. Leo had met Lloyd at various dinner parties and clubs, always in the company of his old friends, never by choice. He couldn’t see the man’s attraction, never sought him out as a friend, finding him too brash and self-confident.
‘Rainbow and Lloyd? How did that happen?’ he asked.
‘The usual – Lauren and Freddie matchmaking again.’
Leo couldn’t think of a worse fit than Rainbow. Lloyd had joined their social circle in the early days of the Durham graduates all starting their first jobs, leaving the north of England for life in the capital. Leo was an exception, opting to join the police and train in Thames Valley, something they all teased him about for years. Of the new London friends, louder-than-life Lloyd had been known to splash his money around and brag about his earnings on the stock market. At that age (mid-twenties), there had still been that feeling that they were all really playing at being grown-up, half expecting a responsible adult to come in and tell them to behave. That moment had never come so they’d grown used to these new versions of themselves. Low-paid civil servant Freddie had been in awe of bullyboy Lloyd and that, Leo had often thought, was the real source of their friendship – Freddie as acolyte to Lloyd’s sun king. From everything Leo remembered, Lloyd didn’t seem the sort to live in a motorhome.
‘Isn’t he something in the city?’ asked Leo. ‘Where does the motorhome fit in?’
Janice laughed, throwing back her head with sensual abandon. He suddenly pictured her doing the same at eighteen and twenty-one – a disconcerting time-slip moment.
‘Of course it doesn’t fit with old Lloyd. But new Lloyd?’ said Janice archly. ‘He’s given it all up to find himself, if you can believe that?’
Phil, who had been eavesdropping, snorted and refilled his cup of coffee from the pot without offering it to anyone else.
‘Struggling,’ admitted Leo.
‘He’d fit right in in California,’ Janice smirked. ‘The new, bohemian, vegan-preaching Lloyd won’t come here, so we have to go to them. They’re parked up by the Rollright Stones, having bunged fifty quid at the farmer, living the good life, so I hope you’ve got your walking shoes with you?’
‘We have. But isn’t that taking principles a bit far?’
She shrugged. ‘I thought you were a detective. You should know it’s more complicated than that.’
Leo had little time for Lloyd’s complications. ‘Tell me, Janice, how’s the acting career going?’ he asked, changing the subject to safer territory.
Chapter Three
Jess
If Janice threw her head back and laughed in that orgasmic way one more time at the slightest joke from Leo, I was liable to do something drastic.
Stabbing a piece of blueberry pancake on the end of my fork, I shovelled it in and chewed vigorously to stop myself saying anything. Leo had neglected to mention that among the guests this weekend would be one of the most beautiful women in the world. I’d seen her on TV – not that I was going to tell her that – in an American series called Ann Droid, which you could find if you dug deep in the Netflix menus. As the title suggested, this was a programme about human-looking robots. She wasn’t the lead droid – Ann – but she played one of her best friends, another AI construct called Ava (short for avatar). It had run to three seasons and I’d found it thanks to the algorithm deciding my life for me.
Because you watched Westworld, why not try…
Who was the machine-controlled person in that transaction? Faced with such competition, my heart was down in my boots, jumbled up like the ones on the porch.