Smile of the Stowaway

by Tony Bassett

  Anne immediately asked if the staff could provide her with the other twin’s birth certificate. After a further wait, they presented her with a certificate showing the birth of Luke Bennett at the same hospital twenty-seven minutes later.

  We discussed the implications that evening when I got back from school.

  ‘We all know about identical twins who’ve fooled people down the centuries,’ said Anne. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if Luke took his brother’s place at the quiz that Thursday evening. If so, Neil’s got no alibi. He would’ve been free to follow Lucas to Lilac Cottage.’

  31

  I was secretly pleased Anne was showing renewed interest in the mystery of Lucas Sharp’s death. By becoming engrossed in this latest theory involving the Bennetts she was distracting herself from worrying about Yusuf. But I felt she was not being completely logical.

  ‘Your idea about someone taking Neil Bennett’s place would only work if they’re identical twins - and we don’t know that,’ I told her. ‘We’ve got to find out if they’re so alike it often leads to confusion.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ said Anne. ‘I could ask Ted Moreton at Finch & Davies, but I don’t entirely trust him since I found out it was he who ordered the GPS tracker. Oh, I know - Jennifer Campbell. She’d know.’

  ‘Who’s Jennifer Campbell?’ I asked.

  ‘She’s someone Gemma Sharp knows. She lives a few doors away from Rosie Bennett in Sturry and knows the family well. I know Jennifer vaguely myself. I went to primary school with her.’

  ‘So you’re planning to contact a woman out of the blue you haven’t seen for twenty years, are you?’ I said. ‘Then you’re going to say: ‘Are Neil and Luke Bennett identical twins?’’

  ‘Well, it won’t be quite like that,’ said Anne.

  ‘It’s going to be an awkward conversation.’

  ‘I know. But I can’t see any other way of checking the brothers out - short of standing outside their house and watching them come in and out.’

  ‘D’you know where their house is?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, I checked the electoral roll for St Stephens. There’s a Luke Bennett living at 41 Summoners Close. It seems Neil’s staying with him after being thrown out of his own house by Rosie.’

  ‘Well, all you can do is try Jennifer. If that fails, it’s option two,’ I said, switching on the television.

  I am pleased to say Anne easily found the neighbour’s phone number and her call to the woman was beneficial. Jennifer, whom Anne had remembered for her thin face and running skills, recalled Anne from their early school days. She was happy to hear from her. She found it a little strange to be asked whether the Bennett brothers were identical twins.

  However, many people had asked her the same question over the years. She was glad to confirm they were indeed identical twins. Even their own parents, Ryan and Judith, had been confused by them at times.

  Friends would have described Jennifer Campbell as a keen conversationalist; others might have used less kind words such as ‘gossipmonger’ or ‘blabbermouth.’ When she started talking, it was hard to stop her.

  I could clearly hear the conversation because Anne turned on the speaker-phone switch on our landline phone. Jennifer told Anne how the twins’ mother, Judith, had dressed them differently as children because even she found it hard to tell them apart.

  ‘It was blue and green for Neil, while Luke tended to wear red and yellow,’ said thirty-two-year-old Jennifer. ‘As they went through school, stories about the brothers passed into legend. They made fools of so many teachers.

  ‘Once Neil won a prize for woodwork. He was skiving off, despite it being school prizegiving day. Luke went up to accept the prize. Many of the kids laughed because they could tell them apart, but the teachers couldn’t. The staff were mystified by the laughter.

  ‘There was a rumour going round Neil went for the interview that led to Luke getting his current job with Associated Carpets. Neil passed the interview with flying colours sixteen years ago, but he’s never been back. Luke turned up for work in his place and he’s held the position ever since.’

  Anne interrupted to ask: ‘What about Rosie? I hope she could tell the brothers apart.’

  Jennifer continued: ‘Luke twice went out with Rosie when Neil was unavailable. The story goes, on one occasion, Luke took her to the pictures. On another, they went stock-car racing. Rosie was totally shocked when she found out - but they didn’t tell her till years later.’ She was in full flow now.

  ‘Rosie eventually learned how to tell them apart - Luke’s got a mole behind his right ear. That was the only clue she had. Once she married Neil, she spent a lot of time checking behind his ear, I can tell you!’

  ‘What about twin telepathy?’ Anne asked. ‘You know, they’re meant to be able to transfer thoughts between themselves.’

  ‘If it happened, they never spoke about it. But Neil made me laugh one day. I asked him about whether he had the same thoughts as his brother. He looked at me with a grin on his face. He said: “When Luke won £5,000 on the horses, I’d a sudden compelling urge to see him. Does that count?” They were always larking about. Life was never dull with them around. I was only thinking the other day...’

  ‘Oh sorry, Jennifer. I’ve got to go,’ said Anne, quickly thinking of an excuse to end the conversation. ‘My other phone’s going. But it’s been lovely talking to you.

  Bye.’

  ‘Oh, well, goodbye. Lovely talking to you too,’ said Jennifer.

  Anne told me, if she had not brought the call to a halt at that point, she had a sense Jennifer Campbell could have talked about the Bennett twins for the rest of Friday evening.

  Anyway, we now knew Neil Bennett’s alibi for Bonfire Night was in tatters. His twin brother Luke, who had been adept at changing roles with Neil almost since the day they were born, had almost certainly taken his place in the quiz team.

  So where had Neil Bennett been at the time his wife was preparing for a lovers’ tryst with accounts supervisor Lucas Sharp? Where had he been at the moment Lucas was attacked and killed and Lilac Cottage set on fire? Anne was now more determined than ever to find out.

  A short time after her conversation with Jennifer Campbell, she approached me in the living-room as I watched a comedy programme. I turned the volume right down. I could see she had a serious matter on her mind.

  ‘Bob,’ she said. ‘I know what I must do now, and I’d like your help. I’ve got to get inside the house where Neil Bennett lives.’

  I was lounging on our brown leather settee at the time. If I had not been so well ensconced, I fear I might have fallen off on hearing her suggestion.

  ‘What?’ I yelled.

  ‘I’ve got to do it. We know the police have bungled the case. Someone’s got to find out who the real killer is for Yusuf’s sake. I’ve got to get inside that house to find evidence.’

  We had managed to avoid any major arguments during our marriage, but it appeared we were about to break with tradition.

  ‘I absolutely forbid it!’ I said. ‘I have my reputation as a teacher to think of. There must be some other way.’

  I paused for a moment, staring down at the beige carpet.

  ‘How about if you used a little subterfuge?’ I suggested. ‘For instance, you could make a badge and pretend to be a meter reader. You could come up with some genuine-looking ID. While pretending to read the meter, you could have a look round - “case the joint,” as they say in America. Or you could talk your way in as some kind of door-to-door saleswoman - you know, offering some kind of bargain. I could make a phone call at the same time to distract them and that would give you a chance to snoop round.’

  Anne smiled at me. ‘Don’t you think I’ve already considered all those options? I’ve estimated I’ll need at least ten minutes to make a proper search. No
ne of those options gives me enough time.’

  ‘Here’s another idea,’ I said. ‘I knock on the front door and pretend a child’s ball’s strayed into their garden. Of course, it helps if I’ve got a cute four-year-old child with a cheeky smile. They leave the front door open as we search the garden. Meanwhile you sneak in and look around.’

  Anne shook her head. ‘There are all sorts of problems with that. For one thing, I believe the houses in Summoners Close all have side alleys leading to the rear. The most likely outcome is you’ll be directed along the side alley into the back garden. We won’t even get a chance to get into the house. Another thing is both brothers could be at home. One might be distracted, but it’s unlikely they’d both be. On top of which -- we don’t have a cute four-year-old child with a cheeky smile.’

  I acknowledged the wisdom of what she was saying. I calmed down a little. It occurred to me, provided I did not actually trespass in anyone’s house myself and left that side of the operation to Anne, the consequences to my teaching career might not prove so severe.

  ‘What kind of evidence are you expecting to find?’ I asked.

  ‘I won’t know till I find it.’

  ‘You must have a vague idea -- a box of fireworks, a bottle of chloroform, a mountain bike and some matches?’

  ‘Well, I’m probably not going to find all that. But to find some of those items would help.’

  ‘And how’re you hoping to get inside?’ I said with a hint of sarcasm creeping into my voice. ‘Are you going to smash a window?’

  ‘I haven’t decided yet,’ she said. ‘I’m still working on my plan.’

  Anne went into the kitchen to make some tea. I turned the volume up on the television quiz programme and tried to concentrate on it. It was not easy. I could not clear my mind of the rash suggestion she had made to enter the Bennett house.

  The more I thought about it, the more I knew it would be a foolhardy enterprise. I comforted myself with the notion Anne had, twice before in our marriage, conjured up some zany ideas. They had been considered for a short time and then forgotten. I convinced myself the same would happen on this occasion.

  32

  In an attempt to raise Anne’s spirits and dissuade her from any reckless course of action, I suggested we go shopping in Canterbury on the Saturday morning and buy her a new dress. I am sure she recognised at once this was a crafty ruse on my part. But the prospect of acquiring a new dress is nearly always a great temptation for a woman and she fell in line with my plan.

  Just as we entered one of the department stores in the city centre, a strident greeting from the women’s lingerie section -- the words ‘Hi, Anne! Hi, Bob!’ -- alerted us Prunella Ball had also gone on a shopping spree. The journalist, who was wearing a smart grey trouser-suit covered by her light-brown coat, rushed over and hugged Anne.

  ‘Great to see you both!’ she said. ‘I’ve got to thank you for passing on that love letter from Rosie Bennett, Anne. Did you see my story in the Mirror? It made almost the whole of a page.’

  ‘No, I missed that, Prue,’ said Anne. ‘Sorry!’

  ‘Rosie Bennett was hopping mad. We had to contact her to give her a chance to comment and she went through the roof. She slammed the front door on me. She has written a furious letter to the editor.’

  ‘Did you receive your birthday card from Anne?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, it arrived last week. Thank you. I had a marvellous birthday. I was taken to London as a special treat and my boyfriend bought me a diamond ring.’

  ‘That’s brilliant,’ I said. ‘My friend Miles was boasting in the pub the other day that his wife once asked him for “something with diamonds.” He ended up buying her a pack of playing cards!’

  Prunella smiled, but quickly changed the subject. She was eager to tell us of a new development. In a hushed voice, she revealed that the activities of Sam Tedros and Jaefer Beraki had come to the attention of Kent Police.

  ‘DI Woods may have little time for your Janice Carslake, but he’s got an intense aversion towards people traffickers and extortionists and when she informed him about what’s been going on, he went straight into action,’ Prunella told us. ‘These two men are believed to run a gang from a car wash in Canterbury and are up to all sorts.’

  Looking around her to ensure we were not being overheard, she went on: ‘They’ve got a detective who’s half British and half Romanian, and I gather he’s gone undercover. Woods realises the gang have been threatening your friend Yusuf inside Elmley. They’ve also had a report from the fire service about suspected arson at Yusuf’s farm caravan. I don’t think it’ll be long before those two thugs are caught.’

  ‘That’s good news,’ said Anne. ‘Yusuf will be relieved when I tell him. We’re going to be seeing him later today.’

  Anne’s mood improved after I had parted with more than a hundred pounds for a black tulle fishtail evening dress in which she looked stunning. We then returned home and, after a quick lunch, we prepared for our journey to the Isle of Sheppey.

  Anne was in some ways reluctant to go. Seeing Yusuf inside a prison was a heart-breaking experience for her. However, she knew how much visits meant to prisoners. She told herself she could not let him down.

  We brought with us some of Yusuf’s clothing that had been left behind in the cottage, some magazines and sixty pounds in cash.

  Then we set off in the Mondeo for the thirty-mile trip to Eastchurch. We crossed the bridge to the island in good time and arrived after around fifty minutes for our two pm visit.

  As soon as we had parked the car, we gazed around at the prison buildings. It looked as if some crazy architect had set to work on a scheme to build dozens of interconnecting supermarket buildings behind high walls. Beyond the walls there were nothing but fields.

  Anne had been here once before, but she stated the system never changed. We showed our driving licences at the reception desk, read out our booking reference number and signed in.

  We were shown how to place the money in Yusuf’s personal cash account. This would allow him to buy small luxuries from the warders. We left the bag of clothing with one of the prison officers. We had to place our mobile phones and Anne’s handbag in a locker.

  After being searched, a drug patrol dog approached and sniffed us along with other visitors in case any of us had fallen prey to temptation and brought drugs in.

  As we were led into the visitors’ hall by a burly warder, we suddenly became aware of a commotion at the far end of the room. We could see two warders grappling with an overweight man. He was shouting and screaming at a middle-aged male visitor.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said our escort. ‘That’s Vinnie. He’s taken a sudden disliking to his visitor. We’re having him transferred to a psychiatric hospital next week. We’ll miss him. He’s a bit of a character.’

  Anne was not really listening. She was conscious of her growing excitement at seeing Yusuf again.

  Finally, we saw him being escorted past groups of other inmates’ friends and relatives. His head turned left and right in anticipation of seeing us. At last our three sets of eyes met. He gave us a smile that reminded me of his first smile when he emerged from beneath our motor-home. It began with a sparkle in his eyes, a wrinkling of his nose and then it spread across his face, ending with a widening of the mouth.

  ‘Anne! Oh, Anne! It’s nice for seeing you,’ he said. ‘And Bob. Nice for seeing you’ as he was directed to a seat in front of a small square table. Anne took his hand and smiled broadly back. His pallor told us he was still unwell. He still appeared to be losing weight. He was normally clean-shaven, but now he had stubble on his face - a sign perhaps of self-neglect, I thought. A sign perhaps of a growing despondency.

  As we sat down opposite him, he grinned and asked: ‘Are there still foxgloves growing in the lane?’

  ‘Yes, they
were still flourishing when I last looked,’ Anne laughed. ‘How’ve you been these past few days? Are things any better?’

  ‘I survive,’ he said. ‘I have new mattress, so I sleep better. The burning smell is no more. Anne, I have to go.’

  For a brief moment, we misunderstood him. We thought he meant he was returning to his cell immediately.

  ‘You’re going?’

  ‘No. I have to get free. A man is trying to kill me in here. He’s called Mehari. He works for Tedros. He cuts me.’

  He pulled up his dark-blue casual shirt - one of the shirts we had bought him in a charity shop three months earlier. We were at once appalled to see a slash wound running down his right neck and shoulder. ‘A doctor give stitches,’ he said.

  We were horrified at this injury, although glad it was not readily visible.

  ‘Didn’t you report this to the staff?’ Anne asked.

  ‘Yes, but they don’t care. They say: “What did you do to him?” They don’t have time to look at prisoners’ arguments. Anne, it’s- how d’you say in English? - it’s the jungle in here.’ He then broke into tears as if he had been battling to control his emotions and was no longer able to sustain it. He bent forward over the table with his head in his hands. I had not seen him like this since his emotional outburst at our kitchen table when he first arrived in England.

  ‘To be accused of a crime when I know nothing about it is very harsh,’ he sobbed.

  ‘I feel I’ve travelled across desert and sea to find new life. I’ve lost my best friend to the sea. I’ve tried to prove myself. But I’m to be cheated. My cellmate says I’ll be found guilty and locked up for ever.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Yusuf,’ Anne begged him. ‘I’ve got an idea who murdered Lucas. I believe I can find the proof. Just hold in there. You won’t be locked up forever.’

  ‘I’m in dark place,’ Yusuf continued. ‘I sometimes think my life isn’t worth living.’