by Jan Newton
‘Of course I did.’ Pritchard’s eyebrows knitted into one and his nostrils flared and Julie had to supress a smile at his righteous indignation.
‘Jason Quigley was found murdered a few hundred yards away from the cottage, Mr Pritchard. And forensic evidence suggests that it was his blood on the bag you took back to your home in Llandrindod.’ Swift’s delivery was slow and musical, but it hit Pritchard like a lump hammer.
‘You’re not suggesting… Quigley is dead? Are you sure?’
‘Oh yes, we’re sure.’ In her mind, Julie could still hear the squelch as his head had moved under Kay’s tender care. ‘What were Lizzie’s movements in the hours before you left the cottage to go shopping early that morning?’
‘She was with Sean while I went up to Llanidloes.’
‘And then, when you got back.’
Pritchard looked up at the ceiling. ‘She made us sandwiches for lunch, and then about an hour or so after that Sean started playing up again. She said she needed some air, so she went for a walk.’
‘How long was she out of the house?’
Pritchard shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. An hour, maybe two?’
‘You’ve told us she wasn’t averse to leaving Sean in the cottage on his own while she went out,’ Swift said.
‘That was different.’
‘How was it different?’
‘She had no choice before, when they were in the cottage on their own.’
‘Before you arrived and rescued them?’ Julie asked.
Pritchard glared at her. ‘It’s not like that.’
‘And how did she seem when she got back?’
‘If she had seen anything happen she would have told me, Sergeant.’
‘That wasn’t what I asked you, Mr Pritchard. How was Lizzie behaving when she got back to the cottage after her walk?’ Pritchard looked down at the table. ‘James, what happened when Lizzie got back?’
‘Nothing happened. She was just hot and bothered from her walk, that’s all.’
‘So she was agitated?’
‘Well, we were both agitated. It’s not easy living a life in hiding, especially with a child who seems to think that yelling is a twenty-four hour a day occupation.’
‘Was she more hot and bothered than usual?’ Julie asked.
‘No, well, only that she came back without her coat and seemed annoyed that I’d asked her where it was. I don’t know why I made such a fuss, it was only an old work coat. She grabbed all sorts of useless stuff in her rush to get Sean away from Blackpool.’
‘And what line of work is she in?’
‘She’s a florist,’ Pritchard said.
‘Is there a possibility that she lost the coat on purpose, do you think?’ Swift said.
‘And why would she do that?’ Pritchard smirked, and Julie had an inkling of what his wife had meant about him.
‘If it had blood on it, for example?’ Julie watched his face closely.
Pritchard sighed, a raw shuddering sigh of desperation. One hand was clamped over his mouth; the other gripped his forehead, pushing his fringe away from his face. Slowly he looked up at Julie, drooped his shoulders and let his hands drop into his lap. ‘I don’t think I should say any more, Sergeant.’
‘Why is that, Mr Pritchard?’ Swift leaned across the table. ‘Is there something in Lizzie’s behaviour that you now realise may have been suspicious?’
‘I killed him, Inspector. It was me who killed Jason Quigley.’
Swift and Kite exchanged glances.
‘But you said a few moments ago that you had no idea he was dead. You convinced me that you were telling the truth,’ Julie said.
‘I killed Jason Quigley. I have absolutely nothing else to say on the matter.’ Pritchard folded his arms and looked up at the ceiling. His solicitor attempted to attract his attention, but Pritchard ignored him.
‘I really don’t understand, Mr Pritchard.’
‘What don’t you understand, Inspector?’
‘Why is it that you were prepared to take the word of a total stranger when she said you were her father, as though it were gospel truth? Why would you do all of this for such a tenuous, uncertain connection?’
‘There’s nothing tenuous about it. Lizzie’s mother wrote to me four months after our school visit to Blackpool. She sent the letter to the address I had left her, and my mother opened it. The letter told me that she was pregnant and that I was the father. I went back to Blackpool and met her, challenged her, said she had no proof of that, and she told me she would go to the police and report it as rape.’
‘But if you weren’t responsible, why would you be worried? If you can’t remember anything about that night, how do you know you were even capable of fathering a child in those circumstances?’ Julie asked.
Pritchard blushed. ‘It was the first time I had been alone with a woman,’ he said. ‘And that was the problem. She wasn’t actually a woman yet.’ He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. ‘She told me she was fourteen years old.’
Swift tutted. ‘So a girl of fourteen tells you she’s expecting your child. What did you do? Did you tell your parents?’
Pritchard looked back at him. ‘Well obviously my mother knew.’
‘And what happened then?’
‘Nothing happened. Well, I’m not totally sure what my mother did. I know she went over to Blackpool but she didn’t tell me what the outcome of her visit was. She decided we should do nothing and wait and see what happened. My mother was, and still is, formidable, but she is also terrified of my father.’
‘But what about your father, did he not have something to say about it?’ Julie asked.
Pritchard looked down at his fingernails. ‘My father is the reason for my mother’s reticence. He was a Methodist minister. Of the fire and brimstone variety. He made her life an absolute misery – he still does. If he had found out about my Blackpool problem, then there was no telling what could have happened. If he were to find out now, then I would fear for my mother’s life.’
‘Are you serious?’ Swift asked.
‘Oh yes, Inspector, deadly serious.’
‘And you just ignored the poor girl, your “Blackpool problem”, and carried on with your life?’ Swift could barely conceal his contempt for Pritchard.
‘She never contacted me again. We lived in fear for three or four months, mother and me, and nothing ever happened. Then I went off to university and tried to forget about her.’ Pritchard ran his hand through his hair. ‘I was unsuccessful, Inspector. I’ve spent the last few decades looking over my shoulder, waiting for the knock at the door, or the phone call that would unravel everything. When it came, it was less terrifying than I had imagined. Until now.’
Julie frowned. ‘Lizzie’s very well-preserved for someone who says she’s approaching her forties, wouldn’t you say, Mr Pritchard?’
Pritchard shrugged, but the frown was obvious. ‘What do you want me to say?’
Julie didn’t reply immediately, but as she watched the full implication of her question hit home, she leaned back in her chair. ‘This confession, is it out of a sense of duty? Do you feel that you owe Lizzie or her mother something?’ Julie asked.
‘Not at all. I would like to reiterate, that I am responsible for the death of Jason Quigley. I will answer no further questions.’
‘How did you kill Jason Quigley, Mr Pritchard?’
‘No comment.’
‘Then I have to remind you that you are still under caution. This interview will be suspended now, Mr Pritchard. You need to discuss this matter further with your solicitor. You will be escorted to the cells and we will recommence the interview later this afternoon.’
CHAPTER THIRTY
Day Seven
Swift sent Julie running across the road to the Slaithwaites’ hotel as he followed at a considerably slower speed. She waved her warrant card at the receptionist and took the stairs two at a time. She hammered on the door of the room and heard John Slaithwaite shou
ting back.
‘Good God, Lizzie, what’s the matter? Did you forget your key? There’s no need to make such a spectacle of yourself.’ He flung the door open.’
‘Where is she?’ Julie panted.
‘But why…’
‘Where is Lizzie?’
‘I… er, she’s gone for a walk. She said she needed to go and buy something from the newsagents.’ He glanced at his watch.
‘How long ago was that?’
‘She’s been gone well over an hour. I must have fallen asleep.’
‘What frame of mind was she in before she left?’
Slaithwaite shrugged. ‘I’m not sure I know what she’s thinking any more, to be honest. Obviously, she was still extremely upset about Rosa.’
‘I can imagine. Did she say anything?’
‘Nothing you’ve not already heard. But it must be so hard for her to get that image out of her mind.’
‘Sorry, I’m not quite with you there. Are you saying she told you she saw Rosa after she was injured?’
Slaithwaite looked like a rabbit in the headlights.
‘So she knew that Rosa was dead?’ Julie stared at him and Slaithwaite squirmed.
‘I, er,’ Slaithwaite pressed his lips together, ‘I may have misunderstood.’
‘And maybe you didn’t, Mr Slaithwaite.’ Julie tried not to glare at Slaithwaite. ‘Is she on foot?’
‘What’s happened? Is it Quigley, is he here?’
‘Not in an absolute sense,’ Julie said. ‘Mr Slaithwaite, has she taken the car?’
‘No, she can’t drive my car. She’s only got a licence for an automatic. It’s there, in the car park.’ Slaithwaite stepped over to the window and pointed to the space where his Audi had been parked.
‘Shit. She can’t drive it, she’s dangerous even in her Smart Car.’ He patted his pockets and ruffled the debris on the dressing table. ‘The keys are gone.’
‘Do you have any idea where she would be? Would she have gone home?’
He shook his head. ‘God knows. I don’t think I know who she is any more, if I’m honest.’
‘Give me the registration number of the Audi.’
Pritchard closed his eyes and recited the number.
‘Colour?’
‘It’s an A5, Matador Red.’
Julie turned to go, just as Swift appeared in the doorway, breathing heavily, and they both hurried from the room.
‘Stay here, Mr Slaithwaite, in case she phones,’ Julie said.
‘If you find her, please be patient with her,’ Slaithwaite shouted after them. ‘She’s not normally like this, really she isn’t.’
*
Swift was not used to driving at speed and the Volvo wallowed disconcertingly. Julie hung onto the door handle and braced her feet against the footwell.
‘Why the great haste, Sir? Do you think she is likely to do something stupid?’
‘Don’t you?’ Swift changed from fifth to third gear and hurled the car round a crawling livestock lorry. ‘You were right, we should have arrested her sooner.’
Julie looked in her door mirror at the irate flashing from the driver of the lorry. It probably meant something in Morse code.
‘But you were right too, we didn’t have any evidence at all. Have we now?’
‘Only in as much as her father, or purported father, has just incriminated himself by confessing to Quigley’s murder. There’s no way he did it. He’s far too wet for that.’
‘Sir, that’s not like you. You always see the best in people.’
‘He walked out on his wife without a word, didn’t he? He left her short of money and worried to death that something had happened to him, so he could help a woman claiming to be his daughter who had kidnapped a neighbour’s child and run away.’
‘If you put it like that.’ Julie laughed at his grim expression. ‘But do you believe her about Rosa wanting her to take Sean away from Quigley?’
‘Only because of the drug-related damage and the fractures we’ve found on Rosa’s body. Otherwise I wouldn’t even be sure of that.’
Swift squealed the Volvo round a double bend over a narrow bridge and Julie closed her eyes. ‘I would have taken my Kwells if I’d known, Sir.’
‘Try the PC who’s with Sean, Cara Davies. They should be back at the station by now. Have you got a signal?’
Julie nodded. ‘Yes, but it’s just ringing out.’
‘Then phone Brian Hughes and make sure they’ve arrived.’
Julie punched numbers into her phone and immediately heard Hughes’ reassuring tones. ‘Brian, Julie Kite. Has Cara Davies pitched up at the station yet, with a little boy?’ She put the phone on loudspeaker.
‘No. We’re still waiting for transport for them. There’s been some sort of major incident in Carmarthen and we haven’t had a car available.’
‘Then get onto Mrs Pritchard. Just ask her if they’ve seen Lizzie,’ Swift said.
Julie cut the connection to Brian Hughes and let go of the door handle to reach into her bag and retrieve Mrs Pritchard’s number. As she bent down, Swift swerved round a cyclist and Julie had to put a hand on the dashboard to save herself. ‘Steady on, Sir, you’ll set the air bags off.’
‘I’m sorry, cariad. But I have a horrible feeling in my bones that I got this one really wrong.’
‘There’s no reply. Didn’t she say she was waiting for guests to arrive?’
*
The front door was open when they got there.
‘That’s Slaithwaite’s Audi.’ Julie pointed at a deep red convertible. Swift double-parked beside it, effectively blocking the road, and the two of them hared into Mrs Pritchard’s hallway. There was no sign of anyone at all. They checked the dining room, and Swift headed for the stairs. Julie went on into the kitchen and skidded on something.
‘Sir, you’d better see this.’
The black and white tiles in the kitchen doorway were covered in small off-white pearls.
‘Shit.’ Swift bent down to pick one up.
‘Sir, listen.’
There was muffled banging from somewhere beneath the back of the kitchen, then shouting. A woman’s voice.
‘Where are you?’ Swift bellowed, the urgent tone of his sing-song baritone making the hairs on the back of Julie’s neck stand up.
‘In the cellar. Mrs Pritchard is here, too, but she’s badly injured. A woman took Sean.’
‘I’ll phone for backup and get them out,’ Swift shouted. He turned to Julie. ‘I’ll get Morgan and Rhys to check on the railway station and taxi companies. You run and see if you can see any sign of Sean and Lizzie.’
‘They could be anywhere, Sir.’
‘I’m aware of that, Sergeant, just go.’
‘But you know the area far better than I do. Shouldn’t you go and I’ll stay here?’
Swift looked at her. It took a moment before the words came out. ‘I can’t, Julie.’
‘Is there something wrong?’
‘No, it’s… nothing. Just doctor’s orders, Julie, now go!’
Julie ran from the B&B towards the centre of town. Nobody she asked had seen a woman with a small pale child. She ran the length of Middleton Street, peering into shops. She sped down the hill past the Metropole and the Cycle Museum, and at a signpost she had to make a decision. The Lake or Rock Park. Either sounded as though it could be fraught with danger for a small child and a distressed woman. She chose the lake and walk-jogged up the steep hill. The little playground was empty, the swings and slide and climbing frames stood idle. Down the slope, the lake was spread out in front of her. She could see swans and coots, moorhens and ducks and huge Canada geese with their striking black and white heads. In the centre, a dragon rose from the water, its body coiling round itself, its mouth spouting water. Julie ran through families, mums and dads, children of all ages, feeding the swans.
In the kitchen, Swift flung open doors, which hid high, old-fashioned cupboards and the pantry, but there was no sign of the way into the
cellar.
‘Where are you?’ he bellowed. ‘I can’t find the door.’
A frantic knocking on the water pipes made him spin round. The muffled voice of PC Cara Davies floated up to him.
‘Over here, Sir. The door’s in the dining room. I’ve no signal. Please phone the ambulance. It’s really urgent.’ Swift hurried back into the hallway, punching numbers into his phone and skidding on the fallen pearls. At the back of the dining room, almost hidden by a huge, dark dresser, was another door. It didn’t budge when Swift tried it.
‘Inspector Swift, Mid Wales Police. I need an ambulance now, please.’ Swift attempted a shoulder-charge, but the door failed to budge and the manoeuvre left him nursing his shoulder.
‘I don’t know what sort of state the casualties are in.’ He scrabbled on the carpet by the door for the key, checked on the dresser and, in desperation, kicked hard at the bottom of the door. It creaked open slowly towards him.
