by Ruth Sutton
Sam shook his head. He knew he would have to do something about Morrison, and soon, but for that he needed Hayward’s story in a proper statement, not just some scribbled notes about a phone call.
It was three o’clock. Professor Phillips had told him to call back at four, but Sam couldn’t wait any longer, and it might be better to phone from home before Elspeth and Tommy came home from school.
‘Have to go out for a bit,’ he said to Grayson. ‘You going to be here a while?’
‘No choice,’ said Grayson. ‘Got enough here to keep me busy for hours.’
Sam walked the mile or so to the house. It was clear and cold but black clouds lay heavily to the west and he pulled his coat collar up against the wind. The first attempt to find
Phillips on the phone didn’t work. He was bounced around from place to place, ending up with the secretary who told him that Professor Phillips was very busy and couldn’t be disturbed for at least half an hour. Sam sat on the stairs by the phone and waited, thinking about Judith. It was five days since he’d seen her in St Bees and he’d heard nothing from her. Nor had Elspeth, which was more surprising. He knew that Elspeth had sent a get well card, but there’d been no response. He’d noticed Judith’s up and down moods – depressed, angry, unreasonable – and being with her mother probably wasn’t going to help. She was a difficult person; he wondered what had happened in her life to make her so. Maybe Elspeth knew, but she probably wouldn’t tell him even if he asked.
He made himself a drink to pass the time and the minutes ticked by. Half an hour on the dot since his first attempt, he dialled the Lancaster number again, and this time he heard Phillips’ educated drawl.
‘Ah, constable,’ he said. ‘You want the test results on the samples you brought in yesterday. What was the boy’s full name again? Steven Clifford Stringer, that’s fine, and you don’t have the date of birth do you?’
Sam did, and gave it to him.
‘Right. Well, Dr Hayward was right to be curious. We know the boy didn’t drown and it looks as if he might have died from an overdose of alcohol and drugs. It wouldn’t take much in such a young, slight body to slow the heart down
irretrievably.’
Sam stopped scribbling. ‘An overdose? Of what?’
‘Well, alcohol of some kind, probably spirits to hit him so hard, and sedatives. They could have been prescribed for him, I suppose, but unlikely.’
Sam was silent, thinking.
‘Where did the boy live?’ Phillips asked.
‘In a children’s home, Montgomery House, just a few miles from here,’ Sam said.
‘Ah,’ said Phillips. ‘In a home. All boys is it?’
‘Yes, why?’
‘I’m afraid I’ve come across cases like this before. Boys, various ages, usually in care. If we had the body still we could double check, but it’s likely he’s been abused.’
‘In what way?’
‘Sexually abused, constable. Raped.’
Sam didn’t respond. The doctor continued. ‘If you’re going to deal with cases like this you need to know the details. Children are given alcohol to soften them up, so to speak, but for boys there needs to be something to relax the muscles, so that someone can… Do I need to spell this out, constable?’
‘No,’ said Sam. ‘I understand.’
‘They often use Diazepam. It’s an effective sedative and has this very useful side-effect, useful if you want to assault small boys, that is.’
Sam heard the casual remark but for a moment he couldn’t speak.
‘You still there, constable?’
‘I’m here,’ said Sam. ‘You’re saying that someone gave these drugs to Steven, for sex, and killed him?’
‘That’s what could have happened. It probably wasn’t deliberate, but there’s always a risk. If the boy wasn’t actually dead he would be deeply unconscious and they must have panicked, whoever did this to him.’
Sam made himself think about what had happened. ‘So they could take him out onto the sands where he was found, and the quicksand would have sucked the body down.’
‘Oh dear, what a mess,’ said Phillips. ‘Makes no difference to me, obviously. But I assume you’re investigating the place where all this happened? It probably isn’t an isolated case. They just slipped up this time, and little Steven paid the price. Sad.’
Sam couldn’t bear to listen to this man for much longer.
‘Is there anything else, constable?’ Phillips went on. ‘I’ll put all the details in my report for Dr Hayward.’ He hesitated. ‘Oh, and considering the seriousness of the implications, I’ve already alerted the police. Other boys are at risk, and it needs to be followed up immediately. I called your superior just before you rang.’
Sam’s heart thumped in his chest.
‘Who did you speak to?’
‘Right to the top with this one,’ said Phillips. ‘Your Chief Inspector Cardine, isn’t it? Had to leave a message, the bare facts as I knew them and asked him to call me back urgently.’
Sam mumbled something and put down the phone. His head was reeling. For a while he sat on the stairs without moving, rousing himself finally when he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Elspeth and Tommy. How could someone do that, to a child? Was that why Harries killed himself? Disgust, guilt, self-loathing? Sam would have helped string the bastard up if he’d known then what he knew now. Why did Phillips have to tell Cardine? From what Dr Graham had said, Cardine was already part of the group of men who all knew each other: him, Edwards, Thornhill, Morrison, they all scratched each others’ backs. How many more were there? Sam pulled on his coat, put his precious notebook in his inside pocket and left the house, knowing what he needed to do next and hoping he wasn’t too late.
❖ ❖ ❖
‘What do you want now?’ said Ann Hayward. ‘He’s been easier in himself since you were here last, and I don’t want him getting wound up again.’ She was standing at the door and showed no sign of inviting Sam into the house.
‘I promise I won’t stay long, Mrs Hayward, but things are happening and I need to talk to him.’ She hesitated. ‘Please,’ said Sam. ‘More boys could be at risk.’
She stood aside and he went into the dark hall. The smell of sickness hit him immediately, and she noticed his reaction.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘You get used to it after a while. The district nurse and I keep him as clean as we can, but … he’s in the back room now. We had to move him downstairs.’
The room was dark. Mrs Hayward went to the window and pulled the curtain back just a little. Sam could hear the patter of rain and the intermittent rattle in the old man’s chest.
‘Are you awake, David?’ said his wife. ‘That constable’s come to see you again. The one who works for Morrison.’
Hayward turned his head and raised a mottled hand off the sheet. ‘Back again?’ he said.
‘How are you, doc?’ Sam asked. Ann pulled up a chair for him and he sat down, tasting the sour breath close to his face.
‘Finished,’ said Hayward.
‘I took those samples to Lancaster,’ said Sam. Hayward’s eyes reacted. ‘Phillips?’
Sam nodded. ‘He did the tests, gave me the results today.’
Hayward said nothing. Sam continued. ‘He thinks Steven died of alcohol and sedatives that slowed his heart.’
Hayward’s eyes filled with tears.
Sam went on. ‘We know Steven could be difficult, and the sedatives might have been prescribed for him, but Dr Graham said nothing about it when I saw him, and if it was accidental they would have reported it surely, not just dumped the boy’s body on the sands.’
Still Hayward said nothing, looking steadily at Sam. He pulled for breath before he spoke, groping for the oxygen mask beside the pillow. ‘Happened before,’ he said, after a long pause. ‘Older kid. Car accident. I did the PM. First time.’ He put the mask over his mouth and drew in.
Sam tried to fill the gaps. ‘You mean that was the first time Morris
on made you alter a PM, when he threatened you?’
Hayward nodded slowly, and lowered the mask.
‘Car accident where?’ Sam asked, reaching for his notebook.
‘Coast Road. Older man driving.’ Deep breath. ‘He was OK.’
‘What drugs did you find?’
The old man spelled out the syllables. ‘Diazepam.’
They looked at each other. Sam nodded. ‘Same again,’ he said. ‘I can find the record of the accident. Can you remember a name?’
Hayward strained his memory, his eyes watering.
‘Feversham,’ said Ann’s voice from behind Sam. ‘The driver was called Maurice Feversham. He was a friend of Edwards. The lad’s name was Edward, Eddie Stretch. He was fifteen. No one asked any questions.’
Sam leaned forward, oblivious to the smell. ‘You must have thought about this, doc. Who was Morrison trying to protect?’
Hayward breathed. ‘All of them, the old soldiers.’ Breath. ‘And their mates.’
‘Cardine?’ Nod. ‘Edwards?’ Nod. ‘Thornhill?’ Nod.
‘Anyone else?’ asked Sam.
Hayward turned his head away.
‘He’s had enough,’ said his wife. ‘He wants all this to stop. To forget.’
‘He can let it go soon,’ said Sam. ‘Can he still sign his name?’
‘Yes, if we help him. And we could witness it. Is that what you want?’
‘I need to have a proper statement,’ said Sam. ‘It may be the last chance.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘I’ve got an old typewriter. We can check what he wants to say, line by line, and we can all sign it. Will that do?’
‘Thank you, Mrs Hayward,’ said Sam. ‘I know how painful this must be for you.’
She smiled. ‘If it helps him to die at ease with himself, that’s all I want, constable.’
And so they wrote the dying man’s statement, and when it was done Dr Hayward lay back in his bed and went to sleep.
❖ ❖ ❖
Back in the office, Grayson was still at his desk, working in a pool of light from a lamp. He looked up when Sam came in.
’You’ve been a while,’ said Grayson. ‘I’ve had to cover for you.’
‘Why?’
‘Morrison. He phoned, looking for you. I said you were out chasing something up from the Upgill cases. Where have you been?’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Sam. ‘I need the phone.’
‘Help yourself,’ said Grayson.
Sam found Judith’s number and called. It was gone five o’clock and someone should be home. A young man answered. ‘It’s the policeman, isn’t it?’ he said, when Sam asked for Judith. ‘Recognise the voice.’
‘Is she there, Vince?’ asked Sam. ‘I need to speak to her.’
‘Actually she’s not, and when Mum comes in there’s going to be a fuss. Judith went to Barrow after lunch. She said she was escaping, before Mum and Dad dragged her off on holiday.’
‘Escaping?’
‘That’s what she called it.’
‘Did she say where she was going?’
Vince hesitated. ‘She asked me to say she was going to see Elspeth. That’s your sister isn’t it?’
‘She’s not there,’ said Sam. ‘Where has she really gone?’
‘Honestly, I’m not sure, constable.’
‘Call me Sam, please,’
‘OK. Actually, Sam, Judith’s gone a bit weird. She lay in her room for days after you came to see her at the weekend, and then all of a sudden she got up and dressed and told me this long, complicated story and said she had to find the proof. If you ask me, I think she’s gone off her head.’
‘What story?’
‘About that boy at Montgomery House who died, and then someone called Harries and the other bloke who died on the sands and a Landrover. And there was something about a badge. On and on. Made no sense to me.’
Sam’s mind raced. ‘So where do you think she’s gone?’
‘She was ranting on about Thornhill, her boss. “Have to warn Irene”, she said. Is that his wife? They’re the people she stayed with, aren’t they?’
Shit, shit, shit, Sam said to himself. Out loud he said, ‘When did she leave?’
‘Just after lunch, when Mum went out. She took a bag and said she might be away a few days, until it was all wrapped up, something like that.’
‘Is that all?’
‘Yes,’ said Vince. ‘Is she all right?’
‘I’m sure she’ll be fine,’ Sam lied.
‘Wait,’ Vince shouted into the phone. ‘What do I do now? She told me to cover for her.’
‘You’ve done what you needed to. Leave it with me now.’
‘What do I say to Mum? She’ll be back soon.’
‘Tell her Constable Tognarelli will find Judith and bring her home.’
‘Is Judith in trouble? Should we call the police ourselves?’
‘No,’ said Sam, as firmly as he could. ‘Leave it with me Vince, OK? I have to go.’
One more call. It was late, and a long time passed before someone picked up the phone.
‘Newsroom, Andrew.’
‘This is the police,’ said Sam. ‘We’re looking for Judith Pharaoh.’
‘She rang in earlier,’ said Andrew. ‘Hattie spoke to her.’ He paused. ‘I was listening.’
‘Did she say where she was going this afternoon?’
‘She asked about Mr Thornhill, but he was out. Hattie told her Mrs Thornhill would probably be home. She said Judith sounded really cheerful. We thought she was ill.’
‘She’s not well,’ said Sam. ‘That’s why we want to find her.’
‘That’s all I know,’ said Andrew. ‘Sorry.’
The phone rang again as soon as Sam put down the receiver. ‘Nelly?’ said Morrison. ‘Where the fuck have you been? Bloody Cardine’s been on to me again. Some long tale about a forensics bloke in Lancaster. What’s Lancaster got to do with it? What’s going on?’
‘Nothing sir,’ said Sam. ‘Must be mixing it up with the Noakes business in Lancaster, when I went there.’
‘Rubbish! Don’t lie to me, you arrogant prick,’ Morrison shouted, making Grayson wince on the other side of the room. ‘I want you to stay right there, d’you hear me? Don’t move till I get there. You’ll tell me what’s going on or I’ll have your badge.’ The line buzzed as he rang off.
‘What’s going on, Nelly?’ Grayson repeated with a feeble attempt at Morrison’s accent.
Sam looked at him. ‘Harry, I want you to come with me, now, before Morrison gets here.’
‘Where?’
‘We’ll need a car. Too far to walk.’
‘Where?’ shouted Grayson.
‘I’ll tell you later. Hurry, man. God knows where Morrison was calling from, but we need to get out of here. Come on.’
Grayson picked up his coat. ‘I must be bloody mad,’ he said.
Sam pushed him towards the door. ‘I’ll tell him it was my idea, acting on information received, I needed backup, no time to wait, anything you like. It’ll be fine, but we can’t hang around.’
At the carpool they had to wait for someone to respond to the bell.
‘Need a car, right away,’ said Sam. ‘Just for an hour or two.’
‘No can do, son’ said the man. ‘One’s out, one’s on the blink. Starter motor gone.’
‘When’s it due back?’
‘Any minute, actually, but they’re often late. You’ll have to wait. Warmer inside. Cuppa?’
Grayson was heading into the office but Sam pulled him back. ‘We can’t wait,’ he said. In the carpool office the phone rang and the man turned to answer it. Grayson said, ‘You’ve not even told me where we have to go in such a hurry, or why. I like a bit of excitement, but this is crackers.’
‘Have you got a car?’ asked Sam.
‘Me, no chance. Got a bike.’
‘A push bike?’
‘Please! Look at me. No, a motorbike.’
‘Where is i
t?’
‘Back at the station, in the back yard.’
‘Come on,’ said Sam, pulling Grayson after him.
They headed out of town on the motorbike, Sam hanging on to Grayson’s coat. The rain was holding off but it was cold, and without gloves Sam’s hands were going numb.
‘Take a left after Roose,’ Sam shouted into Grayson’s ear. ‘House is called Bay View, on its own, on the hill somewhere.’
‘Could be anywhere,’ Grayson shouted back.
‘Just keep going,’ said Sam. ‘Find a pub, and we’ll ask.’
All they got in the first pub were shaking heads, until Sam mentioned Thornhill’s name and someone pointed. ‘Further on, bloody great big place, you can’t miss it.’
‘Try the Black Cock,’ said another, ‘they’ll tell you.’
‘Hold the front page,’ someone shouted to general amusement.
The landlord at the Black Cock looked askance at Sam’s warrant card.
‘It’s only a scooter,’ he said. ‘We just picked it up and put it out of the way. No need to send the flying squad.’
‘What scooter?’ said Sam, puzzled.
‘Red Vespa,’ said the landlord. ‘That girl who stayed with Thornhills a while back, she left it in our yard, right in front of the cellar door.’
‘When?’ Sam asked.
The landlord thought about it. ‘Six’ish now isn’t it? About an hour ago. I called them about it when I saw their lights on.’
‘Who answered?’
‘Thornhill, of course. His house, isn’t it?’
CHAPTER 28
The Black Cock was closed and looked deserted when Judith drove the Vespa slowly into the yard at the back. It was nearly half past four, the light was fading, and she pushed the scooter into the dark shadow of the wall where it couldn’t be seen from the road. Bay View was a hundred yards up the hill, sitting on the ridge. No one else had ever built up there. ‘Too draughty,’ Edna had told her. ‘Most folk build houses in more sheltered spots. Have to be rich to live up high like this.’
