by Ruth Sutton
‘Well don’t tell her straight away,’ said Judith. ‘Let me talk first, or she’ll just bolt. Her family don’t talk to the police. When we get to the station, you wait in the car. If I can persuade her to talk to you, it might work.’
Sam thought for a moment. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘But this is police work and it has to be me that does it. Don’t make any promises, and don’t lie to her, OK?’
He parked the car at the edge of the car park, out of sight of the main station entrance, and Judith walked across on her own. In the café, Donna was carrying a tray of tea. She saw Judith and smiled. Judith smiled back – that was a good start, she thought. She went through to the back to ask if she could see Donna alone for a few minutes and Fred, Donna’s boss, came out to look after the customer standing by the counter.
‘How are you, Donna?’ she asked. ‘No bruises today?’
‘I think he’s gone,’ said Donna. ‘One of ’is mates told me they’d heard Anthony was back and Ian just picked up his bag and left, two days ago.’
Judith sat back on the small wooden chair. ‘Is that good?’ she said. ‘You were afraid of him, weren’t you?’
‘Still am,’ said Donna. ‘E wasn’t bringing any money in, not that I saw any road, but I don’t know where ’e is and ’e could be back, if ’e thinks Anthony’s gone away again.’
‘Where is Anthony, Donna, do you know?’
‘Well you told me ’e’d been to see poor Stevie, so I guess ’e must be over Barrow way. Don’t know where.’
Judith sipped the hot chocolate that the boss had brought over to them.
‘There’s been some trouble over there, Donna,’ she said.
‘What’s ’e done?’
‘Nothing’s certain, but he may have found out something about what happened to Stevie, and we need to find him.’
‘Stevie died in the mud, poor mite,’ said Donna. ‘What’s that got to do with our Anthony?’
Judith was thinking quickly now. ‘Anthony may have thought that someone at the home had been unkind to Stevie, may even have hurt him, which made him run away. We don’t know exactly what happened, but we think Anthony may have threatened that person.’
‘Well of course he did if someone hurt Stevie. Hit ’im, did ’e?’
‘Well, the man killed himself.’
‘Good,’ said Donna.
Judith stared at her.
‘If the man killed ’imself, that’s not our Anthony’s fault, is it? And good riddance. A nonce, was ’e? You know, a perv? If they’d caught ’im and locked ’im up ’e would’ve died anyway, in the nick.’
Judith was still lost for words. Eventually she said, ‘The thing is, Donna, the police need to see Anthony because he was probably the last person to see this man before he killed himself. In fact,’ Judith knew she had to say it, ‘there’s a policeman with me who would like to talk to you about it.’
Donna tried to stand up suddenly. ‘Where?’ she said.
Judith waved towards the door. ‘He’s out there. I told him not to come in. I knew it would bother you. But the police need to find out why Stevie ran away, Donna, why he died, and Anthony can help with that. He could be a witness, do you see?’
She knew it was only half the truth. Donna would probably hate her later, but she would face that when it happened.
‘Will you talk to him, Donna, please? Help us find Anthony and we get justice for Stevie. You want that don’t you?’
Donna sat down again. ‘Stevie was a good lad,’ she said. Judith nodded. ‘Anthony was a wild one, miss, but ’e wouldn’t hurt anyone, unless it were someone who hurt ’is family. I thought ’e might go for Ian. ’E might still.’
‘Then he would be in trouble, Donna, even if he was only trying to protect you.’ Judith waited again. ‘Will you talk to the policeman? He’s a nice man. I won’t let him bully you.’
‘You’ll be there, with me?’
‘We can talk in the car, and I’ll be there.’
Donna thought for a while. Judith said, ‘I’ll ask Fred if we can borrow you for half an hour. That’s all we’ll need.’
❖ ❖ ❖
Donna wouldn’t sit in the front next to Sam. She crouched down in the back seat, hiding her head. She was afraid that someone might be watching.
‘Donna’s afraid her old boyfriend might try to hurt her,’ Judith said carefully to Sam, hoping that he could see how nervous Donna was. ‘I’ve explained to her that Anthony might be a witness and how you need to find him, about what happened to the man at the boys’ home.’
‘I’m Detective Constable Tognarelli,’ said Sam quietly. ‘I’ve been working on what happened to your brother Stevie, Donna, and we need to find Anthony as part of that enquiry. Judith thinks she’s seen him in Barrow, but we can’t be sure. Do you have anything of his, with a picture of him, that we could look at?’
‘I’ve got ’is passport,’ said Donna. ‘He left it with me, said it was safer.’
Sam’s eyes widened. ‘His passport?’
‘Well ’e had to have one didn’t ’e,’ said Donna, as if Sam was a bit slow on the uptake, ‘with coming all the way from Australia.’
‘He was in Australia?’ said Judith. She smiled. Vince had been right about that. ‘When did he go there? ‘
Barnardo’s sent ’im,’ said Donna. ‘They told him that his mum didn’t want ’im no more and ’e might as well away and start again. So ’e went – ’e were about twelve.’
‘So how did he get back here?’ asked Sam.
‘When ’e grew up, ’e got a job, saved some money. Said ’e always wanted to come ’ome.’
‘But what about his passport?’ Sam wondered about all the paperwork Anthony would have needed.
‘Oh, ’e stole that,’ said Donna, ‘from some bloke over there. Had to change ’is name.’
‘So what does he call himself now?’ Sam asked, his little notebook in his hand.
‘Can’t remember,’ said Donna. ‘It’s in ’is passport though. Do you want to see it?’
Donna insisted on walking home on her own, as she always did for a break between the lunchtime rush and the next shift that the boss had given her, that started at four o’clock. Sam and Judith sat in the car and waited.
‘She won’t come back,’ Sam said. ‘Do you know where she lives?’
‘I do actually, but you’re definitely not going there, and anyway, she will come back. She trusts me, and I told her that finding Anthony would help us know what really happened to Stevie. That’s mostly true, isn’t it?’
‘Did you tell her about your flat?’
‘No, but now you’re telling me it might not have been him anyway. We could find out about that too, and the tape he sent to our office. I’m sure he made that tape. I told you he’d been in Australia.’
‘So you did, and I told you it makes no difference where he’d been.’
‘But now we’ll see his passport.’
‘Donna won’t let us keep it, surely?’
Judith shrugged. ‘God knows. People never fail to surprise me. Do some people surprise you?’
Sam thought about it. ‘They do. When they don’t, I’ll know I’ve been in this job too long.’
The November afternoon was gloomy by the time Donna came back. She stood by the wall of the station, watching, before walking across towards them.
‘Here,’ she said, ‘Anthony gave it to me in this envelope and told me to keep it safe, so I have.’
Sam’s gloved hands intercepted the envelope as Donna handed it to Judith in the front seat. He held it carefully by the edges and slid the passport out onto his lap. Judith craned across to see. Sam opened the passport. ‘Is this Anthony’s picture?’ he asked.
‘He put it in ’imself. Clever, innit?’ said Donna.
‘And the name?’
‘He kept the other man’s,’ said Donna. ‘Had to learn the signature and that. I call him Anthony, like we always did, but to everyone else he’s Roderick Arthur Pet
herbridge. What a laugh. Sounds real posh, doesn’t it?’
‘Can I keep the passport?’ asked Sam.
‘No, you bloody can’t,’ said Donna. ‘If our Anthony said look after it, that’s what I’ll do. Can’t just hand over his passport to some copper.’ Sam looked down, making sure he remembered the face, the name, the signature, as many details as he could, before he handed the passport back to Donna. Judith noticed him slip the envelope down beside the seat.
Donna leaned forward to speak to Judith. ‘Is that all you want, miss? I’m on now, till nine when we close. Extra shifts mean double the money.’
‘What about your boyfriend.?’ said Judith. ‘What if he comes back?’
‘Ex-boyfriend, you mean. He’s scared shitless. Anyway, I’m going to stay with Mum for a bit. She invited me back pretty quick when she knew I was earning good money.’
‘She’s Mrs Bell now, isn’t she?’
‘That’s her,’ said Donna. ‘Our Anthony will know where I’ve gone.’
‘Address?’ asked Sam.
‘Get lost, copper,’ said Donna. ‘You keep away from us, and don’t you dare say I’ve been talking to you, even it was for poor Stevie. Gotta go.’ She got out of the car.
Sam leaned across and whispered to Judith. ‘Go in with her. Get something with her prints on, anything.’
‘How?’ said Judith.
‘Anything,’ said Sam. ‘Go on, quick.’
Judith went into the café. Five minutes later she was back. As she sat down in the front seat she pulled open her bag. Inside was a large spoon.
‘I took hold of it with my sleeve, and then dropped it on the floor by Donna’s feet,’ she said. ‘She picked it up and put it on the counter, and I pushed it into my bag when she went to get her overalls. Will that do?’
Sam reached into the glove compartment, found a brown evidence bag, dropped the spoon into it and put it on the back seat alongside another evidence bag containing the envelope. With any luck Forensics should be able to lift Anthony’s prints.
They started the journey back to Barrow, round the foggy shore of the bay. Judith felt enclosed and oppressed by the gloom surrounding the car as Sam drove slowly out of the town.
‘You pushed me into that,’ she said to Sam.
‘Nonsense,’ he said. ‘You loved it.’
It was true. Judith was ashamed of the excitement she’d felt, and now, more than ever, she wanted to talk to Anthony before the police did. It was still her story.
CHAPTER 18
‘Is that you dear?’ cried Irene Thornhill. It was after six and quite dark; every light in Bay View seemed to be on as Judith steered the Vespa slowly down the drive, parked it and let herself in the back door with the key Irene had given her.
‘It’s Judith,’ she called. ‘Is it OK for me to let myself in?’
‘Of course it is, dear,’ said Irene, tapping into the kitchen in her high heels. She grasped Judith by the shoulders and feigned a kiss close to her ear. ‘It’s too cold to be riding that scooter. You could have rung from the office and I would have come down to pick you up.’
‘I couldn’t do that,’ said Judith, taking off her thick jacket and leaving her boots by the door. ‘I’m imposing on you enough as it is.’
‘Not imposing at all. I’ve told you how much I enjoy having a guest, especially a guest like you, not those boring old army friends of Alan’s. I told you he was in Malaya, didn’t I? You’d think they would have had enough of it, but there’s a group of them who can’t seem to let go of it. They still get together and drink and talk about old times. Worse than watching paint dry. I try to avoid them whenever I can. They have this little club, you know, with a special tie and all that. A bit pathetic, actually, don’t you think?’
A thought occurred to Judith. ‘Is Captain Edwards from Montgomery House part of that group?’
‘Who?’ said Irene. ‘I don’t know anyone of that name, I’m sure.’ She took Judith’s hand and led her through into the warm lounge, where a fire was burning and the smell of logs mixed with the polish that Edna used so liberally around the house. Mum would love this room, Judith thought as she sank into the sofa.
Irene fussed with the food that Edna had left for them, and opened a bottle of wine. They sat with trays on their knees, with the television droning in the background. Judith felt the tension of the day draining away.
‘Tell me all about it,’ said Irene, filling Judith’s glass for the second time. ‘Where have you been today that made you so late back. Anywhere interesting?’
Judith knew she could keep quiet about what she was doing, but the wine and food and warmth were loosening her journalistic inhibitions.
‘All the way to sunny Morecambe,’ she said.
‘What on earth took you there?’ Irene enquired, looking at Judith over the rim of her glass. ‘A fingerprint hunt,’ said Judith, ‘to track down whoever wrecked my flat.’
‘Really,’ said Irene. ‘How enterprising of you. All on your own?’
‘That pompous policeman came with me,’ she said. ‘He’s all right actually. Certainly knows his business.’
‘Does he work with Sergeant Morrison?’ said Irene.
‘That’s the one,’ said Judith. ‘Not sure Morrison likes him though.’ She giggled. ‘Sam doesn’t like him much either. Feels a bit like me and Skelly. He and Morrison both want to show us who’s boss all the time.’ She thought about this for a moment. ‘Maybe they’re threatened by youngsters like me and Sam.’
Irene smiled. ‘But you young people are what we need. Energy, enthusiasm, it’s so precious.’ She waited. ‘And have you found out who wrecked your flat?’ Irene filled Judith’s glass.
‘Thanks, lovely,’ said Judith. She hadn’t drunk much good wine before and was beginning to understand why people enjoyed it. ‘Haven’t found the baddies yet,’ she said, ‘but we’re close. And the insurance money should be here soon, and then I can move out and leave you alone.’
‘And tell me about what’s happening about that poor boy who died in the mud. Weren’t you trying to find out what happened to him?’
‘Looks as if everything’s connected to the boy’s older brother,’ said Judith. ‘We found out the name he’s using today. It’s a really funny name!’ She giggled again. ‘Would you believe, Roderick Arthur Petherbridge? What a handle. His sister thought it was a hoot.’
Irene got up to put another log on the fire, as Judith slipped down in her seat.
‘Very warm in here,’ she said, closing her eyes.
‘You have a little rest,’ said Irene, taking the glass and the tray before they slipped down too. ‘Not too long though, or you’ll not sleep properly later.’ As Judith snoozed quietly, her head back on the cushion, Irene turned up the volume of the television and settled down to watch ITV Playhouse. She was still watching when Alan Thornhill came home an hour later.
‘Everything all right?’ he asked, looking at Judith who was still asleep on the sofa.’
‘Fine,’ said Irene. ‘Talk to you later, dear.’
❖ ❖ ❖
The following morning Judith woke with a start. She was wearing her underwear not her usual nightie and had no recollection of getting to bed. She was still wondering about it when Irene pushed open the door, carrying a cup of tea.
‘I looked in earlier,’ she said, ‘but you were still spark out.’
Judith sat up on her elbows. ‘I’m not used to the wine,’ she said. ‘Who helped me get to bed?’
‘Irene laughed. ‘Don’t worry dear, it was only me. And I didn’t tell Alan. Your secret’s safe with me.’
Judith lay back on the pillow, relieved. ‘Thank heaven for that. I had visions of my boss carrying me up the stairs, dead drunk.’
‘Oh it wasn’t as bad as that,’ said Irene. ‘I just helped you up and into bed. You’ll remember it all perfectly once that tea hits the spot.’
Later, in the breakfast room, Judith repeated her belief that the insurance money would
not be long.
‘When it comes, we’ll do some shopping, and make your home feel like yours again,’ said Irene. ‘No rush. You stay as long as you like.’
‘You’ve been very kind,’ said Judith, and she meant it, thinking about a present she could offer, and how grateful her parents would be when she told them about all the Thornhills had done for her.
‘Delighted we could help,’ said Irene. ‘You’d better not be late. I promised Alan you’d be right as rain this morning.’
‘He didn’t see me asleep on the sofa did he?’ said Judith, embarrassed.
Irene patted her arm. ‘Only in passing, don’t worry. You’re allowed to have a snooze after a busy day. He does it himself, many a time.’
By the time Judith arrived in the newsroom, she was already late for her regular walk across to the police station to check the overnight book. Andrew offered to go, but she insisted. Clearly, Skelly was keeping an eye on the feature she had claimed to be writing, and she wanted to make sure that her routine work was done, to give him no grounds for complaint. She picked up the usual list of burned out cars, broken windows and pub fights and turned to go, bumping into Sergeant Morrison coming out of the CID room. ‘The girl with the hair,’ he said. ‘Still making a nuisance of yourself, are you?’
It took Judith a moment to recall the words on the tape that Morrison was referring to. ‘We think we know who made the tape,’ she said.
‘Oh, we do, do we? Well I’m reassured, I must say. Good to know that people like you are out there doing our work for us.’
Behind her Sergeant Clark laughed at the obvious sarcasm, and she felt herself blush. Not worth rising to him, she said to herself, and pushed past him and out into the street. She wanted to tell Morrison what good police work Sam had been doing yesterday, but she knew Sam might not have told his boss what he was up to.
❖ ❖ ❖
Sam meanwhile was with Officer Hobbs in Forensics, revelling in the possession of fingerprints that could help to answer all sorts of questions. He waited, watching anxiously, while Hobbs dusted and printed and compared.
