What Lies Hidden

by Fran McDonnell

  Patricia lifted a photo from one of the piles and passed it to Thomas.

  He looked at it and said, “That’s at university – there’s Matt and there’s Thomas.”

  Isobel reached for it and saw younger versions of the two men. The man she knew as Thomas Banks, Thomas clearly identified as Matt Cooper.

  “Could we take some of these pictures? I promise we’ll get them back to you.”

  Thomas nodded. “Something is bothering you?”

  “Yes,” Patricia said. “We’re trying to find out about the man we showed you who we know as Thomas Banks. Coming here was a long shot really.”

  “You mean Matt. But why would Matt be using Thomas’s name?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “Do you think this has anything to do with Thomas’s death?”

  Isobel could feel the yearning in him for answers and for justice for his son. She dreaded raising his hopes. Gently she replied, “Probably not, Thomas.”

  He returned her gaze. “You don’t want me to be disappointed.”

  “No, I don’t. More than likely this has nothing to do with your son’s death.” She sensed his deflation and in a way was glad of it. “If there is anything that pertains to it we will pursue it, I promise you that.”

  Patricia said, “Me too.”

  His eyes filled with tears. “Thank you, ladies.” He reached out for both of their hands and squeezed. “I’ve enjoyed showing you Thomas, thank you.”

  Patricia started to gather the photos.

  “Don’t put them away,” he said. “I want to look at them some more.”

  Patricia collected the box and the different piles and laid them on the coffee table in easy reach of Thomas. “Which school did they all go to?”

  “St Colman’s, the local school.”

  “Where did Matt live?”

  “Two streets away – Sycamore Street – I’m not sure of the number.” He stared off into the distance and then said, “For a while, Matt dated Ellen Murphy, until she moved to Scotland. Her mother lives here on Dame Street just down from me in number forty-seven. She might know more about Matt.”

  Patricia added her name to the list.

  They each gave Thomas a warm hug and assured him they would visit in a few days.

  As they walked down the path, Isobel muttered to Patricia, “I’m going to beg Simon to pull out the old file on that hit-and-run.”

  “Definitely,” said Patricia.

  They walked a few more steps in silence then Patricia stopped and waited for Isobel to do the same.

  “What’s going on, Isobel?”

  Isobel shook her head. “I think you were right about Thomas Banks and identity theft.”

  “How bad do you think this is, or is going to get?”

  Isobel’s mind was running wild with suppositions and dark imaginings. “Honestly, Patricia?” She received a tentative nod in return. “Honestly, I think it’s going to get very bad.”

  Hearing it seemed to steady Patricia. “You think there are more victims of Thomas Banks?”

  “Yes. But now we need to go and see if we can generate enough credible leads to get the police to investigate.”

  “Yes,” said Patricia. “The game is on.” She grinned at her own Sherlock Holmes reference and they set off walking again. “Let’s find Mrs Murphy and see what she can tell us.”

  There was a text from Simon saying he was liaising with the fraud squad and it would be later today before they could meet to discuss the plan for Wednesday.

  Be careful, he added.

  Chapter 29

  Mrs Murphy’s house was not unlike that of Thomas Banks Senior from the outside. They rang the doorbell and soon heard a shout, “I’m coming!”

  Mrs Murphy had a heavily lined face topped by salt-and-pepper hair. She was a sprightly woman who looked as if she’d had a hard life but had borne it well and was fit for her years despite, or maybe because of, all the hard work.

  “Yes?” she said. No anxiety, no over-pleasantness, just straight.

  This, Isobel thought is a woman whose currency is the truth and who doesn’t deal with anything less. “Mrs Murphy, we’re here because a young woman we know may be in trouble and we hoped that you could give us some help – information really.”

  Mrs Murphy remained interested, assessing even, but said nothing.

  “This young woman has got involved with a man who we believe may be Matt Cooper.” Isobel noticed a minute tightening in the women’s jaw.

  Isobel brought up on her phone the photograph of Anne and Thomas Banks at the dance and extended it to Mrs Murphy. She didn’t reach for it immediately but continued to regard Isobel. Then, visibly steeling herself, she reached for the picture. Her gaze was long and steady then she looked up and her eyes had a modicum of dread in them.

  “We fear for her safety. Please help us.”

  “How can I help you? What can I do to make her safe?”

  Isobel was sure that internally there was a further part to that sentence – about someone else who she couldn’t keep safe.

  “We need information. We have a policeman who knows some of the case and is interested in helping us. We thought there may be old stories from the past that would substantiate what we’re saying.”

  Mrs Murphy folded her arms. “I’m not giving you any information.”

  Isobel returned her gaze, then deciding she had nothing to lose said, “We don’t need to know anyone’s whereabouts. All we need are stories of things that have happened that show a pattern of violence.”

  Mrs Murphy uncrossed her arms and wrapped them around her body. After a moment she said, “I have those all right.”

  Isobel exchanged a glance with Patricia who said, “Please tell us so that we can do something about this man.”

  Mrs Murphy nodded and they followed her into the house and through to the kitchen. Isobel and Patricia sat while Mrs Murphy boiled the kettle and produced a pot of tea and some biscuits. Isobel left her to her tasks of hospitality. She obviously needed the comfort of it and was deep in thought.

  When Mrs Murphy was seated, Patricia produced the other photograph of Matt, Thomas and the boys. “Mrs Murphy –”

  “Breda, please, call me Breda.”

  “Breda, just so that we’re sure, can you point out Thomas Banks and Matt Cooper in this photo, please?”

  Breda identified Thomas Banks, as they knew him, as Matt Cooper. Isobel then produced the photo from the formal occasion and nodded at Breda.

  “That’s Matt Cooper.” Her voice was strong and clear. “Is this the woman who’s in trouble?”

  Patricia said, “Yes, his wife.”

  Breda paled.

  Isobel leaned forward. “Tell us about him.”

  “He wanted to marry my daughter. God, I thought she would never get away. That’s why she lives in Scotland now, far away and safe. For years I didn’t even see her.” It was like a dam had burst.

  Isobel realised that now all the stress, all the secrecy, would come tumbling out.

  “Tell us from the beginning.”

  “Matt dated my daughter Ellen when they were in their last year at school and for a year when they were in college.” Standing up suddenly, she went out and returned with a photograph of a girl in school uniform, aged about seventeen.

  Isobel smiled. “She’s beautiful, she could be a model.” She handed the photo to Patricia who nodded her agreement.

  “Needless to say, Ellen was popular. I would have liked her to date Thomas Banks. He was always a lovely lad, like his dad, but my Ellen, she liked bad guys. She seemed enthralled with Matt and the more I objected, or criticised him, which I did, the more she stood up for him. At the start she was going out, staying later than the time I had set, the usual thing. Then I started to notice a change in her. She became quiet, she didn’t want to see her friends, she didn’t laugh or have fun. All she seemed to want to do was sit in or see Matt. She lost weight. I actually thought she was on drugs. I was
beside myself. One day I tackled her.” Breda looked up with tears in her eyes and pulled a tissue out of her sleeve. “Well, really, I just broke down and cried and asked her what had happened to her. I almost didn’t hear her answer. ‘I’m in hell,’ she said – and the look in her eyes! I hugged her and she cried and cried. It took hours before she could even explain to me what was happening to her.”

  Breda paused and topped up all their cups though they had barely touched the tea.

  “Ellen said that at first it was fine with Matt. She was mad about him. Then he started to get possessive and if she spoke to anyone else or spent time with them he had a fight with her about it. She stopped spending time with other people. Then, he told her she was fat and losing her looks and she started dieting and got so thin. Ellen said that he even kept her late getting home and said that I was impossible. Now I can see that he was manipulating her.”

  Isobel and Patricia exchanged meaningful looks.

  “They’d got engaged when he went to college. He wasn’t as bright as Thomas, but he managed to get in and do a similar course in accounting or banking or something to do with money. After they got engaged Ellen said it got worse. He started to hit her, always where I couldn’t see it. The night we talked he had put his hands around her throat and squeezed until she almost passed out. My daughter was crying because she knew he was going to kill her.”

  The tears were pouring unchecked down Breda’s face. She barely knew they were there – she was reliving a nightmare. Isobel and Patricia exchanged looks and Isobel moved her chair beside Breda and touched her back in comfort and support.

  Taking a breath, Breda continued. “We talked about Ellen getting away. We knew it needed to be far and we knew it needed to be that night. We were also sure that he would come at me and expect me to give away where Ellen was so we agreed that I couldn’t know. She packed a bag, left a note for me and one for Matt. I drove her to the bus station. She promised to get word to me and let me know that she was OK. She’s happy now, with a good husband and two small kids. I’m not going to tell you where she is. He can never know.”

  “Of course not,” Isobel said.

  “Ellen got away because she knew if she didn’t he would kill her. He’s clever though. He believed I didn’t know where she was. Like all psychos he knew the truth when he met it.”

  “He moved away from the area – when was that?” Patricia asked.

  “It wasn’t long after Thomas Banks got knocked down. Matt’s mother decided to move to Scotland. You can imagine I nearly fainted when I heard that. I thought he might be going too. They sold the house and I haven’t seen him since.”

  “Where in Scotland did his mother go?” Patricia asked.

  “None of us knew. She just decided to have a new start up there. Matt took care of the sale of the house for her.”

  “Where did they live?”

  “Two streets away. Sycamore Street, Number 42. A young couple bought it. They’re very nice.”

  Isobel said, “Breda, we’re going to tell our policeman about what happened to your daughter –”

  Breda jerked back in her seat.

  “Just to substantiate what we suspect. He probably won’t even need to talk to you but all you have to do is tell him what you told us. You don’t have to say where Ellen is.”

  Breda settled in her seat and nodded in comprehension.

  “Thank you,” said Isobel.

  “I hope you get him.”

  “We’re going to give it our best shot.”

  Leaving Breda’s house, Patricia got out her phone and found directions for 42 Sycamore Street.

  Chapter 30

  Number 42 had been painted in the pale-grey colour so beloved of modern decorators. Isobel and Patricia opened the gate and walked up the short path to the front door, each side bordered with lavender. As Isobel passed, she rubbed one of the flower-heads and sniffed the soothing perfume from her fingers.

  The front door was painted a glossy red and had shiny brass fittings. Isobel rapped the knocker. It was now three o’clock, still working hours, so she wasn’t hopeful about finding anyone home. They were turning to leave when they heard the door opening.

  In the half-open door stood a woman, very pale with the mussed hair of someone who had been asleep. She was also noticeably pregnant.

  “Hello.”

  Isobel smiled warmly. “Hi, we were making enquiries about the people who used to live in the house before you, a Mrs Cooper and her son Matt?”

  “Are you police? Is there a problem?”

  Immediately Isobel could see the anxiety snaking up in the woman.

  She smiled warmly. “Not at all. My name is Isobel, this is Patricia.”

  Patricia said, “We’re trying to find him, Matt Cooper, who used to live here. We thought that during the sale of the house you might have heard something that would help us find him.”

  Both of the women smiled warmly and reassuringly.

  The woman didn’t respond.

  Isobel said, “Perhaps we could speak to your husband just to clarify if he knows anything?”

  “He’s at work.”

  “Of course, and we’re sorry we disturbed you.”

  “My husband will be home at six o’clock tonight. If you call back then you can talk to him.”

  They smiled and said they might call later.

  They walked back along the street.

  “Do you think it’s worth coming back here?” Patricia asked.

  “Probably, but for now let’s go to the school. We might be able to talk to some of the teachers who knew Matt.”

  Patricia googled the directions for the school. It wasn’t far and they set off at a fast pace to get there before everyone had left.

  By the time they had reached the school gate teenagers filled the yard. They made a beeline for the main entrance and, stopping a conservative-looking teenager, asked the way to the headmistress’s office which was in fact nearby.

  An old retainer secretary sat on guard in the front office. She appraised them unsmilingly, clearly a sentry that they needed to get past.

  Isobel squared her shoulders. “Hello, my name is Isobel McKenzie and this is –” she hesitated – what was Patricia’s second name? She couldn’t remember. What a time for her chemo brain to kick in!

  “And I’m Patricia King from the legal firm of Johnson, Collins and O’Brien. We would like to speak to the headmistress.” Patricia spoke confidently, with authority, and stood tall.

  “Have you an appointment? What is it in relation to?” the sentry said but her voice betrayed a waver of uncertainty.

  Isobel smiled to herself. Patricia had won, she was sure. This stand-off was all over bar the shouting.

  Patricia used a condescending tone. “You know we have no appointment. You must also know that I’m not at liberty to discuss legal matters with you, only with the headmistress. Please let her know that we’re here.”

  The sentry rose and opened the door to her left. She entered, shutting the door.

  When she emerged, she said, “Mrs Wood will see you now.”

  “Thank you.” Patricia inclined her head regally.

  Mrs Wood’s office was bright with windows that overlooked the playing fields at the back. The woman who rose from her chair to meet them had dark hair cut in a bob. She looked to be around sixty, so her hair owed something to a bottle. Her eyes were brown and intense. She looked like she didn’t miss much and had heard it all before anyway. Her manner was warm, welcoming almost. Isobel guessed that she came into teaching because she liked children and despite the time she’d served she still did.

  “Erica Wood,” she volunteered, extending her hand.

  Isobel and Patricia shook hands and introduced themselves.

  “I believe you’re from a legal firm, ladies. What seems to be the problem?” Her voice betrayed no anxiety, just interest. This was a woman who did not panic or imagine difficulties where none existed.

  Patricia too
k the lead. “We’re working on a legal case and we’re looking for background information on an old student of yours. Have you been headmistress here for long?”

  “Five years, but I’ve taught here for considerably longer.”

  Patricia smiled and gestured to Isobel to produce the photograph of the boys and she handed it to Erica Woods.

  Isobel paid close attention but she didn’t see any fear or tension on the headmistress’s face. What she discerned was a deep sadness. There was a profound silence. Patricia and Isobel were loath to break it and waited patiently.

  Eventually Erica Woods tore her gaze away from the picture. When she looked up there was a shine of tears in her eyes.

  “Thomas is dead this long time, more’s the pity, so it’s not him you’re enquiring after.”

  Patricia stood up and gestured towards the photo which Mrs Woods extended. Pointing to Matt, Patricia asked, “Can you tell me this boy’s name?”

  “That’s Matt Cooper.”

  Patricia nodded at Isobel and she produced the picture of Thomas and Anne.

  “Who is this man?” Isobel asked.

  Erica took it and studied it a moment. “That looks like Matt Cooper only older. Is that his wife?”

  “Yes,” Patricia said. “She’s our client.”

  “I see.” Erica stood and walked to the window. Without turning, she asked, “Is she in trouble?”

  “Yes.” Patricia said. “How much we’re not, as yet, sure.”

  Erica swung round. “Danger?”

  “We believe so.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  Patricia inclined her head. “The man you identified as Matt Cooper is calling himself Thomas Banks now and has been for nearly ten years.

  Erica gasped. “What?”

  “Anne Banks came to our firm to get a divorce. We were concerned and have been investigating covertly to determine what’s going on. Our enquiries have led us to some facts that show Thomas Banks as we know him, Matt Cooper as you have identified him, to be a violent man. As yet the depth of his violence is unclear, but we are very concerned. Knowing that this level of abuse and violence usually follows a pattern of escalation, we wondered if there were any events in his school years that would add weight to our understanding of the case.”