[Kitt Hartley 05] - A Witch Hunt in Whitby

by Helen Cox

  Kitt shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, I know what you found and I know what I saw but . . .’

  ‘It doesn’t feel right?’ said Banks.

  Kitt nodded. ‘We’ve been in circumstances like this before. Where all the evidence points to someone we know in our hearts hasn’t done it. There are too many questions. Starting with, how did Cyril get hold of the gargoyles from Twilight Manor?’

  ‘I’ve already contacted Stoke Bramley about that,’ said Banks. ‘After what happened to you this morning, Halloran wanted to question Mr Bramley but it was decided it was best if I spoke to him.’

  Kitt offered Banks a weak smile. She could imagine how that conversation would have gone. Mal would have been hell-bent on talking to Bramley himself and Banks, in her wisdom, would have had to talk him down. Luckily, Banks’s no-nonsense attitude often gave Mal pause for thought. They were perfect partners in that way; Mal helped Banks investigate hunches she otherwise wouldn’t and Banks, well, she was the reason Halloran hadn’t been kicked off the force for rogue behaviour years ago.

  ‘What did Bramley have to say for himself?’ said Grace.

  ‘Allegedly, the gargoyles were added to the manor by member vote and sponsorship. According to Bramley, when they were commissioned, they decided to have a few extra made so they might be auctioned for charity.’

  ‘Aw, such thoughtful wannabe vampires,’ said Grace.

  Banks shook her head. ‘Don’t even get me started on how weird this case is. I suppose I should expect nothing less of something that revolves around Ruby Barnett. But it’s all been even weirder than I thought it would be.’

  ‘So, Stoke Bramley is claiming the gargoyle that almost killed me was one they sold at auction?’ said Kitt.

  ‘You guessed it,’ said Halloran. ‘But, of course, with them being a strange vampire cult, the bidder was anonymous and the fee was paid in cash.’

  ‘Can’t they remember what the person who paid the fee looked like?’ said Grace.

  ‘The cash was sent through the post and at the time they had no reason to keep the envelope,’ said Halloran. ‘It was agreed that the bidder would pick the gargoyle up from a local stone worker, so we’ll be talking to them to get a description. We’ll also be looking at Cyril’s bank account to see if there have been any large cash withdrawals.’

  ‘So, we’re supposed to believe that Cyril bought these gargoyles so he could frame the Creed of Count Dracula for his crimes?’ asked Grace.

  ‘From the look of things, that’s the gist of it,’ said Banks.

  ‘But why would he want to do any of this?’ said Grace.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Banks. ‘Initially it seemed as if we were supposed to believe that he felt compelled to carry out the murders because of his delusions and wanted to make sure there was a scapegoat in case suspicions were raised about him. But he’s just told me and Halloran in there that he played up his dementia symptoms and that he’s not really that sick at all.’

  Kitt wasn’t known for keeping her temper at the best of times but this revelation was more than she could stand. ‘I’ve just spoken to that man – he is vulnerable and there’s no doubt about it. He exhibited very similar ticks to my grandad when he suffered from dementia. I think I’d know if he was putting them on. And when he confessed, there was something not quite right about the way he spoke. It felt like a practised line, sort of robotic. Someone is manipulating him. Also, if he was really out at midnight on three separate occasions on his own, six different outings if you count the marking of the doors, the home would know about it. His absence would have been noticed.’

  ‘I take your point, Kitt, I do. I agree that there’s something off about the way he’s talking and behaving, and I don’t think it’s linked to his condition,’ said Halloran, before lowering his voice. ‘We can’t rule out that it’s not someone at the care home yet. That’s why I’ve asked for the list of people who regularly work with Cyril. The more likely explanation is that someone who works with him, who has access to his room and his closet, planted those things there.’

  ‘Even if someone is manipulating him, he confessed in such an open manner,’ said Grace. ‘Why would he do that if someone else had planted the gear in his wardrobe?’

  ‘There’s a chance that it goes deeper than someone else manipulating him,’ said Banks. ‘That he’s confessed because he has convinced himself that he is guilty and can’t bear the thought of hurting anyone else. His dementia might have played a part. He couldn’t have been getting clothes out of his wardrobe all this time without noticing those things at the bottom. Perhaps one day after they were planted, he found them and that added to whatever manipulation he’d been experiencing and he finally believed himself to be guilty.’

  ‘There’s all sorts of ways that the person who planted the evidence could have planted some seeds in his mind. Told him he was missing on the days of the murders, for example, and asked him where he was,’ said Halloran.

  ‘Pretty much the first thing he said to me and Grace was that he had trouble with his memory,’ said Kitt. ‘But you can’t plan when a person’s going to have a memory lapse. What if he could remember what he’d done on the nights the murders took place? Surely— Oh . . .’

  ‘What is it?’ said Halloran.

  ‘Arnie said that Cyril was on a lot of medication when he visited the bookshop. A buffet, Arnie called it. He thought from the way Cyril was acting the doses were too high.’

  ‘Any medication to temporarily alleviate symptoms would be prescribed by a doctor,’ said Banks.

  ‘But it’s administered by the staff here,’ said Kitt. ‘If the Vampire Killer works at this care home and has carried out all of these terrible acts, including framing an innocent and vulnerable man for their crimes, making that man pretend he’s not as sick as everyone thinks, no less, then I doubt they’d be concerned about messing around with Cyril’s dosage to make him believe whatever they want him to believe. I’ve read a couple of books in my time about brainwashing protocols in the secret service around the world. Drugs always play a part in manipulating a person’s mind.’

  ‘This is too sad,’ said Grace, blinking back tears. ‘All that evidence against him, and I know he’s going to confess to you as soon as you get him to the police station, just like he did to us. He thinks he did it.’

  ‘He’s not a well man, Mal, you’re going to have to tread very lightly when you question him. I’m really not sure how he’ll handle a police interrogation. It might be too much.’

  Halloran stroked Kitt’s arm to reassure her. ‘I’ve no intention of taking a hard line with this bloke. Given his mental health status he will be granted a representative in the room with him to offer as much support as he needs. All I’m interested in is establishing the facts. If there are any holes in his story, we’ll be able to poke at them until we get to the truth – whatever that may be. But I’ve got a feeling this is going to be a long process. We’re not going to be able to hold him at the station the whole time, he’s too vulnerable for that, and we won’t be able to keep him in interrogation for hours on end, he won’t cope. So, we’ll have to do it in stints, verifying anything he tells us between each session.’

  ‘Well, while you’re questioning Cyril we won’t sit idle,’ said Kitt. ‘We’re going to track down Stella Hemsworth and find out why she felt compelled to write a play about the witch trials for her directorial debut.’

  ‘It’s good to rule out every possibility,’ said Banks. ‘But you should know there were no red flags in her financial or phone records. I didn’t have time to look very far back because I’ve been focused on trying to track down Palmer’s son, but certainly there’s nothing in the last three months while the Vampire Killings have been taking place.’

  ‘I appreciate you letting us know,’ said Kitt. Banks was usually incredibly tight-lipped about confidential information. Clearly she didn’t
want to see Cyril go down for these killings any more than Kitt did. ‘But if we don’t go and talk to her face-to-face it will nag at me. Cyril described her as having a bit of an obsession over that play she wrote about James I. Her behaviour did not sound very balanced. As far as I know he still takes part in the amateur dramatics group so she still might see him on a semi-regular basis, which might give her the opportunity to manipulate Cyril if she does have anything to do with the murders.’

  ‘All right, I don’t know when I’ll next get a chance to catch up with you on the task ahead. We’re still in the middle of further investigations into Bramley and Ayleen, too, so there’s unlikely to be even a minute to spare, but I will let you know if Cyril’s going to be charged,’ said Halloran.

  ‘Oooh, one thing you must ask him about, if you can, is this long-lost cousin who mysteriously presented himself,’ said Kitt.

  ‘Yes, Alan Jenkins,’ said Halloran. ‘He’s Cyril’s only visitor. I asked for a list of people who he had contact with and other than his carers, Jenkins is the only person who visits him.’

  ‘Did you get a description or even information on whereabouts he lives?’ said Grace. ‘If I know who I’m looking for, maybe I can look him up online.’

  ‘Apparently he’s a man in his late forties. He has blond hair and quite a thick moustache,’ said Halloran.

  ‘Sounds like a man in disguise to me,’ said Banks. ‘But then again, I always think anyone who wears a moustache is probably in disguise. Sir just about gets away with it because there’s a beard attached.’

  ‘Well, thank you for the style approval there, Banks. I will be sure to come back to you next season when I am ready to change my look,’ Halloran said with a wry smile.

  ‘I suppose one thing to be grateful for is that one way or another this is a breakthrough,’ said Kitt. ‘I don’t think for a second that Cyril is guilty but he is somehow connected to whoever is pulling the strings. Which means we’re probably closer to finding out who the real killer is now than we’ve come before.’

  Twenty-Two

  Early the following evening, Kitt and Grace were sitting in the Hook, Line & Sinker Inn, which stood on the seafront between the Dracula Experience and Whitby pier. The building itself couldn’t be more quaint with its mock-Tudor beams, stained-glass windows and thatched roof, but given all that had been revealed at Seaview Care Home the previous afternoon, this was no social outing.

  By the time she and Grace had got back to the hotel the night before, Kitt had been exhausted. Perhaps it had been the attempt on her life catching up with her. Or the fact that she hadn’t really slept properly since the case began. Whatever the reason, she had barely kept her eyes open and, once they had found a lead on Stella Hemsworth’s whereabouts, she had promptly retired to bed.

  She had hoped to wake to a message from Halloran to say he’d had some major breakthrough based on information provided by Cyril, but no such luck. Halloran’s morning text message merely explained that he was still verifying all of the information Cyril had relayed to them in interview and wouldn’t be back until later that evening. Consequently, with the killer due to strike in just three days, Kitt and Grace had spent the day in full research mode. Firstly, looking further into Peter Tremble’s history to make sure he’d never had any business in the Sandersdale area that might link him with the Children of Silvanus – which as far as they could see he hadn’t – and swotting up on their next potential suspect, Stella Hemsworth.

  Luckily, Stella Hemsworth, writer and director of The Curse of James I, A Musical, had been an easy person to find online, and it seemed that, much like the Vampire Killer, she had a flair for the dramatic. She was a regular performer at pubs in the area and tonight was no exception. She stood on a small stage in the corner of the inn, wearing a black sequinned maxi-dress and black feather boa, even though she was performing to an audience of no more than fifteen people in a pub on Whitby seafront on a Thursday night. Moreover, given the audience’s somewhat overzealous reaction to slightly off-key show tunes of yore, most of the audience seemed to know the performer personally.

  Kitt and Grace had endured almost forty-five minutes of Stella’s questionable renditions and as she warbled out the last few notes of ‘Call Me Rusty’ from Starlight Express, Kitt prayed to all the lost librarians in the sky that an interval was nigh. If she and Grace had thought this plan through they would have been fashionably late to the beginning of the show and thus could have dodged the unforgettably patchy performance of ‘The Rum Tum Tugger’, amongst many others.

  ‘Thank you, my darlings,’ Stella purred through the microphone. ‘I’ll be back in twenty with my Les Misérables medley. So don’t go away.’

  Inwardly Kitt prayed they would get all the answers they needed before the second half of the show resumed. Stella’s manner on stage was embarrassingly overblown. She couldn’t imagine that the melodramatic histrionics of Les Misérables would do anything to temper that.

  Stella tottered down from the stage in a pair of black sequinned wedge heels that Kitt wasn’t entirely convinced the woman could walk in. Before anybody else could swoop on her, Kitt and Grace approached.

  ‘Ms Hemsworth,’ said Kitt, taking in the sight of the seasoned showgirl up close. From a distance, Kitt had thought her about the same age as herself. Up close, however, she could see just how much face powder she was wearing. Little pockets of it sat in several deep wrinkles around her eyes. Her revised assessment was that Hemsworth was in her early fifties but likely told people she was still in her forties. Kitt always felt rather sad about people who tried to hide their true age. Perhaps it was because she had seen so many lives cut short in the time she’d been involved in criminal investigations, but she had come to think of growing old as more and more of a privilege with each passing year. ‘We’re sorry to bother you but we are very big fans of your work and couldn’t resist coming to say a few words to you.’

  ‘Well, well, well,’ Hemsworth said, placing a hand against her chest. ‘It’s always wonderful to meet a person who describes themselves as your fan.’

  ‘Oh, we’ve kept track of your output for quite some time now,’ said Grace. ‘We always loved you in that advert for Stomach Settlers. We really believed you were in gastric distress. We’ve followed your work ever since on screen and stage.’

  ‘Well, I’m surprised I don’t recognize you. I always try to make as much eye contact with the audience as I can to show my appreciation for their support.’

  ‘We . . . tend to sit further back,’ said Kitt. ‘It can be intimidating, you know, being up close and personal with a star of the stage.’

  ‘Oh!’ Stella said, patting Kitt’s shoulder in what she thought was a somewhat overfamiliar manner given she’d only met the woman two seconds ago. ‘I know just what you mean. I met Kenneth Branagh once and hardly knew what to say for myself. Would you like a photograph with me? Something to show your friends and family?’

  ‘Well, maybe in a moment,’ said Kitt. ‘But we actually finally plucked up the courage to talk to you because we’re a bit concerned about something we heard today.’

  ‘Really? Oh dear, what was that exactly?’

  ‘We . . . apologize for bringing up morbid topics when you’re in the middle of a performance but you’ve probably heard about the Vampire Killer on the news?’ said Kitt, studying Hemsworth’s face carefully.

  ‘Oh yes, a terrible business indeed. Just shows you what can happen to you if you get mixed up with a dubious crowd. The town likes to make its money from the goth weekend but there’s a consequence for getting mixed up in dark things like that – in fact I wrote a play about that very idea a few years back now.’

  ‘We know,’ said Grace. ‘That’s part of the reason we’re worried about you.’

  Hemsworth frowned and shuffled around a bit. ‘Why is that?’

  ‘Someone we know said that some members of the cas
t in that play are being interrogated by the police in relation to the killings,’ said Grace.

  ‘What? Which cast members?’

  ‘We don’t know exactly who, it was a conversation we overheard in one of the tea rooms here. But the people who were talking about it said that the police had decided to interview anyone involved with the play because of its link with the occult,’ said Kitt.

  ‘Apparently the police are desperate to catch the killer because he is due to strike again on Sunday evening. So they’re leaving no stone unturned,’ Grace chipped in.

  ‘As soon as we heard that, we were worried for you. As the director and writer of the play we thought you were likely to be the one the police were really interested in,’ said Kitt.

  ‘I haven’t heard anything from them,’ Stella said. She didn’t sound half as concerned as Kitt needed her to be for the plan to work. Their plan involved a great deal of risk if Stella was the true Vampire Killer but with so little time left before the eleven days were up, they had no choice but to throw caution to the wind.

  It was time to lay it on a little thicker.

  ‘Well, of course you haven’t,’ said Kitt. ‘They’ll be going around the cast members first, getting all their stories on record.’

  ‘Stories?’

  ‘Yes, details on how you behaved during the production, anything you told them about why you wrote the play or chose that subject matter,’ Kitt clarified.

  ‘And when they’ve got all the stories from the other cast members, they’ll pull you in for questioning to see if your story matches,’ said Grace. ‘That’s how the police work. They try to catch you out.’

  ‘Oh, I can just hear it now,’ said Kitt. ‘They will try to argue that the fact you wrote this play shows an unhealthy obsession with the occult. And let’s not even start with what they’ll do with the scene in which a witch gets her blood drained.’

  ‘It will be a literal witch hunt,’ Grace said, shaking her head. ‘The police are desperate to make an arrest because it’s hurting business in the area. And from the sound of things, we think you might be their next target.’