by M J Lee
Ridpath glanced down at his fingers resting on the steering wheel. The nails were bitten and the cuticles red. It was always like this. His nails suffering for every case he worked.
He took three deep breaths and went to his safe place: on top of the hill overlooking Ladybower Reservoir, the wind blowing in his hair and the world at his feet.
Afterwards, he felt calm and collected, ready to face the coroner. The children’s home at Daisy House was key to this case. What had happened there to Jane Ryder?
He got out of the car and stood in front of the court. As he walked up the steps, a group of people were coming out. One of the women was crying, being consoled by her husband and daughter. ‘It was an accident, Hilary, a stupid accident.’
Ridpath caught the words as he stepped to one side, allowing them to pass. The people must have been coming from an inquest.
‘But it shouldn’t have happened to him, he had so much to live for. He was special…’
‘I know, love, I know.’
The man put his arms round his wife and led her past Ridpath, her face and eyes scarlet with tears.
The woman stopped for a moment. ‘My brother was only thirty-two, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.’
Another woman, dressed in black, passed them on the stairs. Suddenly Hilary pushed past her husband and flew at the woman. ‘You did this. You and your stupid cult killed him.’
The woman in black’s eyes flared in anger. She raised her fists and moved backwards away from her attacker.
‘It’s your fault. I know all about you. My brother told me what you’re up to.’
Ridpath readied himself in case the grieving woman attacked again. But all her strength seemed to leave her and she began to sob uncontrollably.
The woman in black didn’t answer but kept her eyes on her attacker as the husband and daughter ushered her away.
Ridpath stood there as they passed. He mustn’t forget, every case was always about people. The hands in the backpack weren’t objects but people who’d lived and loved and lost and learned. Jane Ryder wasn’t only a victim who’d vanished one summer’s day in 2009, she was also a young girl with her whole future in front of her.
He glanced across at the woman in black. She looked familiar. Was she a lawyer who’d worked on inquests before? Probably.
She ignored him and walked down the steps, checking the family were going in a different direction before walking off towards town.
It was always about people. Brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, mothers and fathers.
Perhaps this was the lesson he’d learnt most from the death of Polly and the time he spent grieving for her.
Life was always about people. And so was death.
Nothing else mattered.
Chapter 60
‘Hi, Sophia, is the coroner in?’
‘She’s preparing her notes for an inquest, Ridpath.’
‘I saw some relatives outside.’
‘Helen Moore’s inquest. Accidental death was the verdict. I think Helen is writing a prevention of future deaths report for the chief coroner.’
‘Mrs Challinor won’t mind if I interrupt.’
‘Before you go in, I have something to tell you.’
‘Let me see the coroner first, we’ll talk afterwards.’
Ridpath knocked on the door.
‘Come,’ came a voice from the inside.
He entered to see Mrs Challinor sitting at the desk; her face was drawn and white, weariness etched into the creases around her eyes.
‘Is this a bad time?’
‘It’s always a bad time at the moment.’
‘I thought I’d let you know how the Jane Ryder investigation is progressing.’
‘Good, come in, there’s something I have to tell you too. You first.’
‘There have been some interesting developments since we last talked. First, either deliberately or innocently, it seems the Ryders didn’t tell us everything about their relationship with their adopted daughter.’
‘Adopted?’
‘Jane wasn’t their natural daughter. She was fostered first and then adopted by the Ryders when she was nine.’
‘That’s news to me.’
‘As it was to me. But there’s more. She spent her early years in Daisy House Children’s Home—’
‘The same place you are investigating for MIT?’
‘Correct. We’ve now confirmed the backpack in which we found the hands was owned by Jane Ryder. It was the one she took to the music festival on the day she disappeared.’
‘The two cases are definitely connected?’
‘It would seem so. We’re trying to find out more about the social worker, Patricia Patterson, who was involved with Jane Ryder.’
‘Involved? How?’
‘We don’t know yet, but we’ll find out.’
‘Good, thank you for the update. I’ve made a decision regarding the inquest on her presumption of death. Mrs Ryder is now receiving terminal care at the hospice. You know what that means?’
‘She could die at any time.’
Mrs Challinor took a deep breath. ‘So I’ve decided to hold the inquest on Monday.’
‘What? You can’t. I haven’t finished my investigation yet, and didn’t you hear what I said? There are links between Jane Ryder and the hands we found at Daisy House. She may have been one of the victims. I need more time.’
‘But who will give Mrs Ryder more time, Ridpath?’
‘I understand, Coroner, but I also know there should be enough evidence to presume death. I haven’t had the time yet to give you certainty. And I must be certain.’
Mrs Challinor’s jaw clenched. ‘I hear you, Ridpath, but my mind is made up. I have contacted Claire Trent. She will arrange for a police legal representative to ask for an adjournment of the inquest after we have heard from the witnesses. That way I can issue a provisional certificate pending the police inquiry into Jane Ryder’s death. It should be enough for the Ryders to sort out their financial affairs.’
‘But you can’t. We haven’t arranged for the witnesses to attend.’
‘It’s already in progress. Jenny is sending out the requests as we speak.’
‘To whom?’
‘The Ryders have already been informed.’ She checked her notes. ‘The invitations have been sent to a Police Sergeant Colin Dowell, Doreen Hawkins, Rose Anstey and the social worker, Patricia Patterson.’
‘What? But you don’t even know their addresses.’ Understanding spread across Ridpath’s face. ‘Sophia knew. It’s what she wanted to tell me.’
‘Correct. The inquest is going to happen on Monday. As we agreed earlier. I will call the witnesses and hear their testimony, then the inquest will be adjourned pending the result of MIT’s inquiries. Claire Trent and I have agreed to give you till the end of the week to complete them. Afterwards, I will issue the presumption of death certificate.’
‘But you can’t do it.’
‘I think you forget your position, Ridpath. I have made my decision.’
‘Even though Jane Ryder’s death may be linked with at least two others?’
The coroner’s voice softened. ‘We have to give closure to the Ryders. Mrs Ryder is dying, we don’t know how long she will live. Can you tell me realistically when you will finish your investigation and I can hold the inquest without an adjournment?’
‘You know it’s impossible to predict when an investigation can be concluded at this stage, Coroner.’
‘I understand, and therefore we will hold it on Monday. I have made my decision.’
Ridpath stood up. ‘But there is a killer out there who has taken the lives of at least three people in the last ten years, all of whom were linked to Daisy House Children’s Home. We need to find out who he is.’
‘That is a police investigation, Ridpath, not one conducted by this coroner’s office. Our sole focus is Jane Ryder. Can we presume she is dead?’
Ridpath stayed silent.
‘Is there a
ny documentary evidence she is alive? Has she been seen in the last eleven years? Was there a robust attempt to find her eleven years ago?’
‘Not robust, no.’
‘The police followed the correct procedures in a missing person investigation?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘All these questions tell me I can conduct an inquest on the girl on behalf of her parents. Remember, our job is to represent the dead in the world of the living, Ridpath.’
‘There is one element you have forgotten, Coroner.’
‘And what is that, Ridpath?’
‘We have DNA from one of the hands that we can compare with DNA taken from Jane Ryder’s toothbrush. If we get a match, it will confirm she is dead.’
Mrs Challinor exhaled loudly. ‘When will you get the results?’
‘I don’t know.’
She took up her pen and began writing in her file. ‘I suggest we have them before the inquest on Monday, and then it will be no longer necessary to request an adjournment.’
Ridpath stood up to leave.
‘One more thing. Please do not confuse your work for me with your work for MIT. We are not looking for convictions, or even to find out who committed any crime. Our sole responsibly is to represent those who died.’
‘Understood, Coroner. But can we truly represent Jane Ryder and the others unless we know who amputated their hands and why they did it? What happens if the killer strikes again?’
‘I’ve made my decision, Ridpath.’
‘I must ask that you minute my objections, Mrs Challinor.’
‘Noted, Ridpath.’
Chapter 61
He saw Sophia as he came out of Mrs Challinor’s room.
‘Sorry, Ridpath, I had to give them the notes. I tried to tell you but—’
‘No worries, Sophia, you were just doing your job.’ He walked over to his desk and began packing his bag.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Home to see my daughter. It’s obvious I can do no more here at the moment. It’s time I spent some time with Eve.’
‘They grow up so quickly, too quickly. That’s what my mum always says. I think she wishes I was three years old all over again.’
‘Call me if you need anything.’ He made the universal sign by holding his thumb and little finger close to his ear.
‘Before you go, here are some new photos sent by the photographer. These were his outtakes from the Mad Ferret Festival. He’s happy for us to use them in any way.’
Ridpath picked up the one on top. It was a full frontal shot of the man. Jane Ryder was dancing next to him with her body facing away from the camera. The man seemed angry to be caught on film. Or was it Ridpath imagining something that wasn’t there?
‘I’ve already sent them to Chrissy and Oliver.’
‘Thanks, Sophia, good work.’
She blinked once and nodded. ‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t be, in your place I would have done exactly the same. In the coroner’s place, I too would be ordering an inquest for Monday, I understand. It’s just…’
‘Just what?’
‘There’s a killer out there who has murdered at least three people, amputated their hands and kept them as trophies in formaldehyde. We don’t know why they are doing it or if they will strike again. Perhaps it’s this man.’ He prodded the photograph forcefully and took a deep breath. ‘The worst is nobody seems to care. Not the coroner. Not Claire Trent, not anybody else. My team have been working our bollocks off trying to solve this without being given the time or the resources necessary to complete the job.’
He looked at Sophia; she was staring back at him. He realised at that moment how young she was, and how inexperienced.
He picked up his bag from his desk. ‘Sorry, venting at you when it’s not your business.’
‘Everything we do is my business.’
‘Call me if you need anything. I’ll email through my notes from today’s meetings when I’m back at home.’
‘Goodnight, Ridpath.’
He didn’t turn to reply.
Chapter 62
At Mrs Dunwoody’s house, Eve was pleased to see him. ‘Dad, you’re early for once.’ She ran and hugged him round the waist. He looked down at her head and realised she was already up to his shoulders. How had she grown so quickly?
‘Shall we go home now? What do you want for tea?’
Mrs Dunwoody stood to one side. ‘You’re welcome to stay here. I’m cooking shepherd’s pie,’ she said hopefully.
‘Thank you so much, Angela, but I get so little time off and I’d like to use the little I have to cook for Eve tonight. I have one favour to ask.’
‘Ask away.’
‘Could you pick her up on Monday too? I have an inquest and I fear it will run late.’
‘No problem. Perhaps you’d like to stay for dinner?’
Ridpath smiled. ‘That would be lovely, I’ll probably need some good home cooking that night.’
‘Right, it’s a date… I mean… I mean…’
Ridpath called to Eve to cover Mrs Dunwoody’s embarrassment. ‘Come on, Eve, let’s go, time for me to cook.’
‘Great, Dad can we have your lasagne?’ She turned to her friend Jessica. ‘Dad makes a mint lasagne with all the crispy burnt cheesy bits around the edges.’
She glanced at her mum. ‘Sounds magic, better than shepherd’s pie.’
‘We’ll finish the maths homework sometime over the weekend. I’ll come round, OK?’
‘Great, I haven’t a clue what it all means.’
‘Don’t worry, it’s a piece of cake. Bye, Jessica, bye, Mrs Dunwoody.’
They both exited the Dunwoodys’ house, walking down the street to their new place. ‘Jessica’s great, but she doesn’t have a clue about maths.’
‘I thought you said she was one of the mean girls, the plastic people.’
Eve shrugged her shoulders. ‘I was wrong. On her own, she’s nice, a bit blur sometimes.’
‘See, what did I tell you about judging people too quickly.’
‘Put these words in order, Dad. Pot. Kettle. Black.’
He put the key in the door. ‘You go upstairs and wash the grime of school off your face, not forgetting to sanitise your hands, while I get started on the lasagne.’
‘Can I watch you cook?’
‘So long as you promise not to help. Remember what happened last time.’
‘The white cheese sauce ended up black.’
‘How did that happen?’
‘I haven’t a clue. Tasted good though, if a little black.’
She ran upstairs while he walked to the kitchen.
After they had nearly finished a whole tray of lasagne, both lay back in their chairs with bellies extended.
‘Can’t eat any more, I’m stuffed,’ said Ridpath.
‘Save the rest for tomorrow, not that there’s much left. It was good, Dad.’
‘Yeah, not as good as Mum’s though.’
Eve smiled, changing the subject quickly. ‘We OK for Sunday?’
‘Sunday?’
‘Visiting Mum’s grave, remember.’
He thought for a moment of the investigation and all the work still had to be done. So much to do and so little time to do it all. Sod it. It was time he gave more consideration to his daughter and less to the bloody job. ‘Should be OK,’ he finally said. ‘You still need to visit your grandparents though.’
‘Do I have to? Granny will nag me, saying my Chinese isn’t good enough and my skirts are too short.’
‘She’s right on both counts.’ He remembered the briefing at Stretford nick tomorrow morning. ‘Are you OK if I go to work tomorrow?’
‘No problem. I have Chinese classes until one and I’ll take the tram home. I have enough homework to last till next Christmas.’
‘Take care, won’t you?’
‘Nah, I’ll take the tram, it’s quicker.’
‘You’ve used that joke before, smart arse.’
&n
bsp; ‘The good ones never go out of style.’
After both of them had washed up and Eve had gone to bed, Ridpath sat alone in the living room nursing a glass of Macallan and going over the events of the last few days in his mind.
He didn’t blame Mrs Challinor, in her place he would have done exactly the same. But by holding the inquest they would probably spook the killer. Whoever they were, they would go to ground and never be seen again. The case would remain unsolved and then quietly transferred over to the Cold Case Unit. If no new DNA evidence surfaced, it would just sit there on a shelf, as cold as a wet Tuesday in Accrington.
At exactly 11.01, his phone rang.
‘Ridpath.’
‘Hiya, it’s Emily.’
Ridpath instantly felt guilty. While he had been sitting here sipping whisky and feeling sorry for himself, his team had been working late on a Friday night when they should have been out enjoying themselves.
‘Hi, Emily,’ he finally answered.
‘I followed up on Patricia Patterson, the social worker, and guess what?’
‘I don’t know.’ His voice sounded tired and lost.
‘She went missing last Wednesday. The day after the hands were discovered.’
He sat up straight in his chair. ‘What?’
‘Patricia Patterson went missing last Wednesday.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m with her partner at the moment. The woman’s distraught, saying she didn’t come back from work on Wednesday night and she’s not answering her phone.’
Chapter 63
Patricia Patterson sat up straighter as the door opened. ‘I wondered when you would come. Is it time?’
‘Not yet, Pat.’
‘But it will be soon?’
There was no answer. They both knew none was needed.
‘I would never say anything. I’d always keep my mouth shut. I have so far, haven’t I? Cherie doesn’t even know.’
‘They found the backpack.’
‘I told you not to put it there. Somebody was always going to find it. Some druggie or some nosey kids.’
‘You broke the rules, Pat.’
‘What rule did I break?’
‘You left us. It’s not allowed.’
