Speak No Evil: A Midlands Crime Thriller (Detective Sebastian Clifford - Book 2)

by Sally Rigby

  ‘Yes, for Monday. Are you able to come with me?’

  ‘Sorry, I’m on a training course all day. Can we meet after I finish so you can tell me about it?’

  ‘I’ll meet you from the course and we can go out for a drink.’

  ‘Perfect. Do you have anything planned for the weekend?’

  ‘I’m going to work on my research for Rob, to free up time for working on Lacey’s case during next week. You?’

  ‘Work tomorrow and then Sunday it’s Leicester to see Marie Davis. I can’t wait. It’s so exciting now I’m actually getting somewhere.’

  Chapter 12

  When Seb arrived home, Elsa came charging towards him, as usual, excited to see him. He leant down and gave her a rub.

  ‘Hello, girl. Give me a couple of minutes to change and we’ll go out for a long walk. We might as well take advantage of the weather, as according to the forecast it’s going to rain later.’

  He took off his coat, hung it on one of the pegs in the lobby and went upstairs. As he was opening the bedroom door, his phone began to ring. He pulled it out of his jacket pocket and glanced at the screen. It was his mother. Why was she phoning? They’d only spoken a few days ago. Was something wrong?

  He pressed the key and accepted the call. ‘Hello, Mother.’

  ‘I’m glad to have caught you. What are you doing?’ she said, dispensing with any pleasantries.

  ‘Working on a couple of cases. Why?’ he asked, frowning.

  She’d never shown much interest in his activities in the past. If anything, his parents buried their heads in the sand when it came to his work. It was the only way they could deal with it not being appropriate. Their opinion, not his.

  ‘We’re at the house in London and need you here. We have a problem with Hubert.’

  What had his brother been doing that was bad enough for him to be called? Hubert had never stepped foot out of line. He was an impeccable heir to the Worthington estate and title.

  ‘What sort of problem?’

  ‘He’s not his usual self and refuses to do anything other than stay in his room. He won’t even come out for meals, choosing to eat alone. We are at a loss as to what to do? I’m extremely worried.’

  Was Hubert depressed? It certainly pointed to that, although Seb didn’t want to jump to any conclusions without knowing more about the situation.

  ‘Has he been to see the doctor?’

  ‘I thought maybe he should, but when I mentioned it to him, he refused. Your father thinks Hubert should simply pull himself together and stop being so ridiculous, which isn’t helping matters.’

  ‘Have you spoken to Virginia?’ he asked, referring to his brother’s wife.

  ‘No. She’s down in Winchester with the children, and when I asked Hubert whether he wanted to see her, he refused, saying it wasn’t necessary. This situation is very difficult and we need you here.’

  ‘What do you expect me to do? I’m not a doctor or a therapist. It sounds like he needs professional help, and I’m not qualified in that field.’

  ‘You’re misunderstanding. We don’t wish you to make Hubert better. We realise you couldn’t do that,’ his mother replied, sounding puzzled.

  ‘Sorry, Mother. You’ll have to explain as I have no idea what you’re asking of me.’

  ‘Your presence is required to assist your father in his duties. He has an event to attend, and he’d planned to take Hubert, but he’s now refusing to go. Your father insists that you take Hubert’s place.’

  ‘Why didn’t he ask me himself?’

  ‘He’s snowed under with his work and requested that I contact you instead.’

  Seb sat on the edge of the bed. He had no desire to attend events with his father. One of the reasons he’d moved away from the family was because he found it repressing. But if his brother Hubert was unwell, then he should do what he could to help. Except, if he wasn’t prepared to seek treatment, then how long would he remain in this state?

  ‘I understand that, Mother, but it’s extremely difficult for me to leave everything. I’m in the middle of two cases, both of which need my attention and I can’t simply drop them.’

  ‘But you’ve left the police. What are these cases?’

  He had informed his parents about becoming a private investigator, but she must have forgotten.

  ‘My company has been employed by the police, in a research capacity, and I’ve also taken on another case.’ She didn’t need to know all the details.

  ‘Sebastian, we’re not asking you to move back here on a permanent basis. We understand that you have your own life to lead, even if we don’t approve of what you do. All we’re asking is that you make the time to attend some of these events with your father. Until Hubert is back to his old self.’

  He breathed a sigh of relief. At least they realised he wasn’t returning to the nest. But he needed to be clear that it was a temporary measure.

  ‘I understand now. I’ll be here if you need me, but we can’t simply leave Hubert to his own devices. Something has to be done.’

  It would be easier for him to speak to his brother in person. If his parents weren’t going to insist that he sought some help, then it would be up to him to do so.

  ‘Thank you. We’ll definitely look into helping your brother, if he’ll accept it. In the meantime, your father will be grateful for your company.’

  ‘We’ll take it one event at a time. Tell me about the first one.’

  ‘It’s a black-tie charity auction being held at The Savoy Hotel on Thursday of next week. Your father is on the board, so it’s important the family is well represented. Unfortunately, I have another engagement that evening so won’t be able to attend.’

  ‘That should be fine, but I’ll confirm with you later, once I’ve checked my diary.’

  As much as he was prepared to assist, especially as Hubert wasn’t well, he also realised that if his mother believed it was easy for him to leave what he was doing to be there with them, then she would expect it all the time and that would only lead to him being drawn further and further back into the family life that he’d rejected.

  ‘You can stay overnight at the house with us, rather than your flat, then you and your father can discuss the event and leave together.’

  ‘That will be fine. I’ll return here, to East Farndon, the following day.’

  ‘Do you have the correct attire?’

  ‘Not with me, but I’ll call in at my place on the way to collect everything.’

  He’d contact his neighbour, Jill, and ask if she’d take his suit to the dry-cleaner. It had been a long time since he’d last worn it. He hadn’t bothered to bring any formal clothes with him to Market Harborough, not envisaging he’d be attending any events which called for them.

  ‘Marvellous. Assuming Hubert is still here when you arrive, then perhaps you will talk to him. He might open up a bit more with you, although I’m hoping by then he will have gone back to the estate to be with Virginia and the children.’

  ‘Does he know that you’re asking me to come back to assist?’

  ‘No, we didn’t tell him.’

  ‘So, he might still be planning to attend the Savoy event with father, in which case you won’t need me.’

  ‘He’s not leaving his room and has already missed one function. When we asked him about future events, he said he wasn’t prepared to commit to anything.’

  ‘You should mention to him that I’ll be attending in his place, because he may still decide he wants to go. I don’t want him to feel pushed out at a time like this, when he’s unwell.’

  ‘I’ll talk to him before you arrive. Thank you for agreeing to go with your father, we do appreciate it.’

  His mother ended the call, and Seb remained seated on the bed. His priority was to make sure his brother got back to doing what he did best. Being the heir.

  Chapter 13

  Birdie had tossed and turned all night, her mind constantly on the visit to Leicester she was going to m
ake. Even when she did fall asleep for a couple of hours, she had the weirdest of dreams, during which she went to meet her birth mother, but as soon as she got to the place, there was a note sending her to somewhere else.

  She never did get to meet her. It went on and on.

  Finally, at seven o’clock, having been fully awake for over an hour, she decided to get up and go downstairs for some breakfast.

  The kitchen was empty, as usual for that time on a Sunday morning. It was the one day when everyone stayed in bed until at least nine. It was a family tradition. It meant that she could eat her breakfast in peace and not have to talk. All she wanted to do was decide what she was going to ask Marie Davis and hope that she’d be giving her some useful information.

  She’d planned on leaving at ten to make sure she arrived in Leicester with plenty of time to spare. But that still left her with well over an hour to fill before she had to get ready. She’d go back to bed and check out her social media accounts. That way, she wouldn’t be disturbed.

  She took herself upstairs, picked up her phone from the bedside table, and spent some time looking at all the posts her friends had put up. They cracked her up. But it still only took her half an hour. She couldn’t stand waiting a moment longer. She’d go early and that would give her time to check out the area her birth mum had lived in. She ran to the shower and was soon dressed, made-up, and ready to go.

  On her way out, she popped into the kitchen for a glass of water. She opened the door, and an intoxicating smell invaded her nostrils. Her mum was standing by the hob cooking the usual Sunday breakfast of bacon, eggs, sausages, and hash browns. Her stomach rumbled, even though she’d just eaten.

  ‘As much as I hate to say this, nothing for me, thanks. I’m on my way out.’

  ‘I wished you’d told me before I’d put all this bacon on.’

  ‘Sorry, but I’m sure Dad, or one of the boys, will eat it.’

  Both of her brothers were at Leicester Uni, Arthur in his second year, and Thomas had just started. They lived at home, neither of them wanting to move out.

  ‘I’m sure they will,’ her mum said, chuckling. ‘Where are you going so early on a Sunday?’

  ‘I’ve arranged to meet a friend in Leicester. We’re going to look around the shops and then go for lunch. I should be back early afternoon.’

  ‘Okay. You have fun. We might be out when you get back, as your dad wants to visit some of the garden centres to get an idea for the water feature he’s planning to build out the back. I take it you’ll be in for dinner tonight?’

  ‘Totally. No chance of me missing roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. I’ll see you later.’

  The roads were clear and the drive to Leicester didn’t take her as long as she’d anticipated. She was in Aylestone by ten-thirty and she drove straight to Saffron Lane, the street where her mum used to live.

  It was a typical working-class area with rows of terraced houses, some of which looked as if they’d been well taken care of and others which were more rundown. She got out of her car and walked along the other side of the road to the house that she was going to be visiting so she could check it out without being spotted. Marie Davis’s house was neat and tidy, and had a small patch of grass in front with flowers all around the edges. To the left, the house had paint which was peeling, the windows were dirty and the grass overgrown. The house to the right was the one where Birdie’s birth mother had lived. That looked to be well looked-after.

  She glanced at her watch. There were still twenty minutes to go, so she returned to her car and took a drive around the area to familiarise herself, and to see the local school. No wonder she was never early. The waiting was doing her head in. At least with being late, as she invariably was, it meant that she didn’t have to hang around twiddling her thumbs.

  Eventually, five minutes before she was due at Marie’s house, she headed back and parked outside.

  She knocked at the front door and a man answered. Marie said she’d be alone. Who was he?

  ‘I’m Lucinda Bird from Market Harborough. I had an appointment with Mrs Davis this morning.’

  ‘Oh, yes, she mentioned to me that you were coming to see her. She was worried about letting you down by not being here. I’m her son, Craig. You’d better come in.’ He opened the door fully, and she stepped inside into a narrow hallway which was nicely decorated, in a very traditional manner, with floral wallpaper and a beige carpet. He led her into the front room, which had a dark brown sofa and one easy chair, both facing the television in the corner. Where was Marie?

  ‘Is everything okay?’ she asked, sensing the tension in the air.

  ‘Please sit down and I’ll fill you in on what has happened.’ He gestured to the sofa, and he sat on the chair. ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you, my mum had a stroke on Friday while she was staying with one of my brothers in Nottingham.’

  Birdie’s hand shot up to her mouth. ‘Oh no. That’s awful. How’s she doing?’

  ‘She’s still in the hospital near my brother. The doctors are assessing her and she’s doing as well as can be expected. Fortunately, she can talk, although she’s slurring a little. She managed to give me a list of things to pick up, so I stopped by. She has no feeling down her left side but the medical staff told us that it will hopefully improve as time goes on. It could have been so much worse.’ His face paled, and his eyes were glassy with tears.

  ‘She’s in the best place possible,’ Birdie said, to try to reassure him.

  ‘We know.’ He nodded.

  ‘What’s going to happen to her when she’s discharged?’ hoping her question wasn’t too intrusive.

  ‘That’s what the family has to decide. She can’t come back here and live on her own because she’ll need assistance. It doesn’t help that we’re all scattered around the country and none of us live very close.’

  ‘Please send her my best wishes when you see her.’

  As sorry as she felt for Marie, she also felt sorry for herself, too. It meant that she’d hit a dead end in the search for her birth mother. Well, for a while, at least.

  ‘Certainly. Now, I understand you wanted to speak to my mum about the family who used to live next door to us. The Bakirtzis. Would you mind telling me what interest you have in them?’

  She sat up straight. Was she going to find out about them after all? That would be amazing if she did. But she wasn’t prepared to tell him the truth. Instead she’d tell him what she’d planned to tell his mother.

  ‘I’m asking for a friend who has been trying to contact Kim. Did you know her at all?’

  She hoped he believed her. She hadn’t thought beyond saying that it was for a friend. If he asked why the friend wanted to know, she’d have to make up something on the spot.

  ‘Oh, yes. We all knew the family. We were quite close. My mum was friends with Kim’s mother and missed them a lot when they moved.’

  ‘According to your mother, they moved to Canada. Do you remember exactly when they went?’

  ‘I don’t, but it’s got to be over twenty-five years ago. Mum would know. Obviously, you can’t ask her today but maybe when she’s a bit better you can organise another visit to wherever she ends up living.’

  ‘I don’t want to bother her while she’s unwell. She mentioned that she received a Christmas card from the family each year. Do you happen to know their address, by any chance?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t.’

  Damn. This was getting her nowhere. But she could hardly push him to go searching for his mother’s address book to see if she had it. She’d have to try to find the family herself.

  ‘Before I go, is there anything else can you tell me about the family, that I can pass onto my friend?’

  ‘From memory, I think there were four children, but I can’t remember their names. They were all a lot younger than me. I think Kim was the eldest, but I could be wrong.’

  ‘How old would Kim be now, do you think?’

  Would he think that an odd question
to ask, considering she was meant to asking for a friend?

  ‘I’d say, she’d be around fortyish.’ He paused. ‘Maybe forty-one or forty-two. I can’t be sure though.’

  Clearly, he didn’t think her question odd. Or if he did, he didn’t mention it.

  She wanted to ask what her mum looked like, but didn’t dare.

  ‘We might have a photograph of them somewhere, if that helps?’

  Had he read her mind?

  Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Was she about to see what her birth mum looked like?

  ‘Yes, please.’ She could hardly get the words out and hoped he didn’t notice her excitement. She drew in some calming breaths.

  ‘Let me see if I can find the right photo album. Mum keeps them in one of the sideboard cupboards. Bear with me for a minute as there are loads here to look through.’

  ‘Thank you for taking the time to do this.’

  He headed over to the old light-wood sideboard that ran alongside the far wall. He opened a cupboard and rummaged in there for a few minutes, while Birdie anxiously drummed her fingers on her leg.

  ‘Right. It looks like I might have found one. I remember a party we held for my dad, and they all came round.’ He flipped through some of the pages and nodded. ‘I was right,’ he said, walking towards her with the album in his hand. He sat beside her, the open album on his lap. ‘Here’s a photo with all of them from next door.’

  Birdie stared at the smiling family in front of her. Her family.

  ‘Which one is Kim?’

  ‘That’s her on the end, with the dark blonde hair.’ He pointed to a teenage girl with long hair who wasn’t very tall and who was smiling. A broad, inviting smile.

  She looked happy. Was she pregnant then? It was impossible to tell how old she was.

  ‘Who’s that boy?’ she asked of the boy with red hair standing next to her.

  Red hair. Her father?

  ‘That might have been her boyfriend at the time. I don’t remember his name.’

  ‘Was it a long-term relationship?’

  He frowned. ‘I’ve no idea. Mum would probably know, as she knew plenty about them. Is it important?’