An Unfinished Murder

by An Unfinished Murder (retail) (epub)

  ‘I’ve warned Josh the police will want to interview him.’ Markby sighed. ‘But I do wonder how Inspector Barker will cope! He’s not going to be happy when I tell him he may have to dig up a sizeable area of land to look for a body that might not even be there.’

  * * *

  ‘When I got up this morning,’ said Inspector Trevor Barker, ‘the only immediate worry I had was that I was losing even more hair.’

  He swept a hand self-consciously over what was a distinctly thinning thatch. He wasn’t old, for crying out loud, and he thought it unfair to be going bald. His mother told him it made him look distinguished. She reminded him that his father had also lost his hair early. But no man wanted to be told he looked like his father when said father was in his seventies and the son was only forty-four.

  ‘I knew that once I got into work, I’d get the usual problems landing on my desk,’ he added gloomily. ‘What I didn’t expect, Alan, was that you’d walk in here and tell me that your gardener found a body twenty years ago and didn’t report it.’

  And also walk in here looking like bloody Peter Pan. Why had Markby not lost any hair? Barker fumed inwardly. What’s more, Markby had been blessed with that kind of fair hair that never quite seems even to be going grey. ‘Ash blond’ it was named in those preparations women buy to colour their hair. He knew, because his wife used such a beauty aid. He might even, had he been an uncharitable man, have thought that Markby dyed his hair. But he knew it wasn’t so. Markby was lucky, that’s all. He, Trevor Barker, had drawn the short straw. There was his visitor, who must be in his late sixties, looking the same age as Barker.

  ‘Distinguished,’ his wife had once described Markby to him, after a chance meeting with the retired superintendent and his wife in a local restaurant. ‘And those blue eyes quite give me the shivers!’

  Barker had sourly told his wife to, ‘Chuck it in!’

  ‘Josh was only nine years old at the time,’ Markby reminded him. ‘And he was in foster care. He didn’t have a real mother he could run home to with the story. I’ve explained all this.’

  ‘Oh, yes, you’ve explained it all very well!’ Barker retorted, returning his attention to the matter in hand. ‘I don’t know the spot myself. Is the spinney, as you call it, still there?’

  ‘I drove round that way and made a recce before I came in here this afternoon,’ Markby told him. ‘Most of it is still there but it’s in a dismal state. It seems to be where the citizens of Bamford dump their unwanted old fridges and TVs. Not to mention sacks of garden waste and other rubbish. From Josh’s description of it, as it was when he was a child, it was quite a pretty spot. Now you’d call it pretty horrible.’

  Barker acknowledged the weak joke with a grimace. ‘And you completely believe your gardener’s tale?’

  ‘Absolutely. Besides, he had the bracelet – that one.’ Markby pointed to the surface of Barker’s desk.

  Barker stared gloomily down at the silver chain, now neatly encased in a little evidence bag. ‘Well, I’ll have to pass this higher up. I can’t authorise an expensive fishing expedition like digging up the area without further authority. They won’t be happy, I can tell you. Everything is costed now, down to the last penny. There is a Cold Case Unit in the county, but they’re fighting for the finances to look into more promising cases than this one. Besides, they just don’t have the personnel. So, just don’t get your hopes up too high! We’re talking about a bracelet found by kids twenty years ago on a patch of ground that has since been largely built over. The gardener says his sister took it off a corpse. But his sister might just have found it on the ground, lost months earlier. I can’t remember in detail everything I did when I was nine. Can you?’

  ‘I understand your doubts,’ Markby said mildly. ‘But it would be nice to be able to close the case.’

  Barker leaned back and beat a tattoo on the desk with his fingertips. ‘Of course, it was your case, wasn’t it? You’d want it sorted.’

  ‘It was only my case at this end of things, and our involvement here was strictly limited to finding out if the girl had come home. The police in Gloucestershire handled the other end, the actual disappearance. They interviewed the students who knew Rebecca, and also her boyfriend.’

  Barker’s face set in a suspicious scowl. ‘They checked the boyfriend out more carefully than just a chat, I suppose? Lovers’ quarrel, perhaps, or maybe she wanted out of the relationship. The lad was jealous, you know the sort of thing.’

  ‘I believe that he was questioned more than once, at the time. But there was nothing to suggest he knew anything about her disappearance. He was described to me as being very worried.’

  ‘Sure he was worried!’ snapped Barker. ‘It might have been a guilty conscience!’

  ‘Or just that he was a young man who’d never been in trouble and whose girlfriend had vanished, and he didn’t know what to do or say. But I didn’t interview him. That was the local CID’s job, as I told you. I dealt with the parents here.’

  ‘Are they still alive?’ Barker asked. ‘We’d need them to confirm this is her bracelet.’ He touched the little plastic bag with the silver chain.

  ‘Without checking, I couldn’t say. I imagine they’d be elderly now, like me!’ A fleeting smile crossed Markby’s face. ‘Yes, they could still be around.’ Diffidently he added, ‘There is one thing I might mention – just a coincidence, you understand.’

  ‘Please do!’ invited Barker sourly, and looking apprehensive.

  ‘Well, at the time, when I was liaising with Gloucestershire, there was a young detective sergeant assigned to the case there, bright chap, graduate intake…’

  ‘Oh…’ said Barker simply.

  ‘He’s now a superintendent. His name is Ian Carter. He later moved around, as one does, but now he’s back in Gloucestershire.’

  ‘This is leading to something,’ Barker said suspiciously.

  ‘Only that, before I retired here, I had a newly promoted inspector on my team called Jess Campbell. She was very young. She’s now with the Gloucestershire force, working with Carter. A coincidence, as I said.’

  There was a silence during which Barker looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling. When he lowered his gaze again he said, ‘Fair enough. I’ll pass this higher up. They’ll want to speak to you, if nothing else.’

  Markby chose to overlook the lack of encouragement, and rose to his feet. ‘Thank you for listening to all this,’ he said politely.

  Barker, not to be outdone in courtesy, held out his hand. ‘My pleasure, as I might say in other circumstances! Only it isn’t good news you’ve brought me. For you, perhaps it is.’

  ‘For me?’ asked his visitor, gripping the proffered hand.

  Barker smiled for the first time since greeting Markby on arrival. ‘Not often an investigating officer gets a second bite at the apple long after he’s retired.’ Barker’s smile widened. ‘That is what you’re after, Alan, isn’t it? A second crack at an unsolved case?’

  ‘I’m retired,’ Markby said, for the second time that day.

  * * *

  ‘Well? What did Trevor Barker say?’ asked Meredith impatiently. ‘Are they going to dig in the spinney?’

  Markby shrugged off his jacket and hung it up in the cavernous hallway of the old Victorian house. It was darker and gloomier than usual, because the light was fading. He had not done much in the garden, he thought. Once Josh had told his extraordinary tale, Markby had spent the rest of the working day driving round the area once covered by the spinney, and talking afterwards to Barker. Before coming indoors, he’d checked that Josh had finished the digging; he was slightly surprised to find that his gardener, after neatly cleaning the tools and putting them away in the shed, had gone home.

  ‘Josh hasn’t waited to find out how I got on,’ he said to his wife. ‘I suppose, now he’s laid the burden of his secret at my feet, he’s decided he doesn’t have to worry about it any more. It’s my pigeon.’ He gave a rueful grin.

  ‘And how
did you get on?’

  ‘Trevor’s passing it up the food chain,’ he said. ‘Consulting his superiors. To be fair, he can do nothing else. To reopen the case would be a complicated and expensive business; so, unless there is really good reason to believe a body or some remains will be found, there may be reluctance to go ahead. In the end, it can’t be Trevor’s decision alone.’

  ‘He doesn’t believe Josh?’

  ‘He knows I believe him; and I expect him to speak to Josh in person. Plus, we have the evidence of the bracelet. But it might not be enough. No one else stumbled over the body, only Josh and Dilys. Then it vanished, pretty soon afterwards – or someone else would have found it, as you said. The killer might even have been there when the two children came upon it. He heard them coming and hid, then emerged when they ran away.’ Markby looked discontented. ‘Barker and anyone else he consults will drag their feet.’

  They had progressed to the sitting room where, in deference to a chilly evening, the bars of an electric fire glowed in the hearth. In wintertime, a real log fire burned there, but the weather was warming up, during the day, at least. Alan subsided on to the sofa with a sigh of relief.

  ‘The cost of the operation will be a big factor!’ said Meredith sapiently. She had followed Alan and was perched on the arm of the sofa. ‘Someone will decide it can’t be squeezed into the budget.’

  ‘It’s an important factor in any decision to be made about following this up. That, and assigning the manpower. Then there’s all the paperwork – even if it’s computerised, these days. Someone has to do it. It would mean finding out who now owns the land. And who owned it at the time, and whether it was put to any use other than just a scrap of woodland. Who had access? Who went there regularly? All that could be tricky. Although there is a possibility the Council now owns it, if the spinney formed part of the original plot of land bought from the farm for the houses to be built. But if it doesn’t, then possibly the developers of the business park own it. That would be Dudley Newman’s company, which itself is history. But they didn’t incorporate all of it in the development, so perhaps it was outside their purchase. The farm is long gone, of course, so if the farmer retained ownership, it will be quite a job tracking down his heirs.’

  ‘You’re making it sound very difficult,’ said his wife.

  ‘It is difficult! Police work is difficult! Anyway, all you and I – and Josh – can do now is wait.’

  Waiting did not sit well with his wife. ‘We could go and take a look around that spinney, or what’s left of it. It’s been in public use for over twenty years, whoever owns it!’

  ‘I did that on my way to see Trevor Barker. It’s always been all too accessible! It’s become an unofficial rubbish tip over the years and now it’s a real eyesore. There is less of it than when Josh and Dilys made their grim discovery. I understand part of it is now under the parking area attached to the business park.’

  ‘It’s not difficult to dig up a parking lot!’ said Meredith eagerly. ‘They did it in Leicester and found King Richard the Third. People said that was a waste of time before they found the skeleton!’

  ‘Hold your horses, Watson! This isn’t our decision, remember!’ He grinned at her. ‘Much as you would like it to be! I’ve done my bit and told Barker. Now it’s with him.’

  There was a pause in the conversation but not an empty one. The atmosphere fairly vibrated with the unspoken. Markby picked up the daily paper, made an unconvincing stab at reading the headlines, and dropped it again.

  ‘There’s something else,’ said Meredith. ‘Is it something Trevor said?’

  ‘He thinks I want an investigation to go ahead for my own satisfaction. I was, after all, in charge of enquiries at this end. It’s unfinished business for me.’

  ‘And would you like to finish it?’

  Alan didn’t answer at once. Then he said, ‘I should like Rebecca’s body to be found. At the time of her disappearance enquiries were concentrated in the West Country, where she was living and where she was last seen. We didn’t find her here and, frankly, we didn’t expect to. Perhaps we – I – should have looked harder. It is possible one or both of her parents are still alive. It would give them closure. Not knowing for sure what happened to a loved one is very hard to cope with. It’s very sad having a body to bury. But not having a body means no one ever knows, and there is always a lingering hope. Usually a forlorn one. But I can do nothing now, even if a decision is reached to excavate the spinney. Besides, even if remains were found, it would mean establishing they are Rebecca’s. DNA tests cost money and take time. The bracelet alone isn’t enough.’

  ‘And if Rebecca is found there?’

  ‘Then the first thing Barker will do is tell me to keep out of it! It will be his case – or a matter for the Cold Case Unit. I’m retired, remember?’ He heaved another sigh. ‘Why do I keep saying that today?’

  ‘Because you’re like an old warhorse. When you hear the bugle call, you want to gallop ahead!’

  ‘Thanks for the comparison!’

  Meredith went to the bay window, leaned her hands on the sill and stared out at the view of the path to the front gate and the street beyond. The lamp posts had sprung into bright life. There must be something on in the church next door, because that was lit up, too, and people were walking past the house heading for it.

  ‘Nothing says you can’t make a few enquiries – look around – before Barker warns you off. After all, it was to you Josh told his story. You ought to check it out!’

  Her husband jumped up from the sofa, dislodging the discarded newspaper. It slid to the floor, scattering its sheets across the carpet.

  ‘You are absolutely right!’

  Meredith spun round. ‘You agree?’

  ‘A hundred per cent. I should have checked it out more fully, before I went to Barker. I have confidence in Josh, but it’s a lot to expect Barker to have the same belief in his story. When he interviews Josh, as he will, he may decide Josh isn’t all that bright. He’d be wrong, but people do think it! Barker may decide it’s all a wild goose chase and decide not to take it any further. I ought to have dug out some background detail to support it. It would be insurance for me, too. After all, the worst-case scenario is that Barker does take action, that all the permissions come through, the spinney is thoroughly excavated at great cost, and nothing’s found!’

  Markby was now walking up and down the room, gesturing with one hand and pushing back the fringe of hair that had fallen over his forehead with the other.

  ‘You remember Jess Campbell? She joined my team when I made superintendent. She had just made inspector and it was her first posting in the rank.’

  ‘Yes, of course I do. She bought my little house. Where does she come into it?’ Meredith was beginning to be alarmed. She hadn’t seen Alan so agitated about anything for a long time.

  Quickly he told her about Ian Carter, who’d been in on the original enquiry and was now ranking superintendent. ‘Jess is working in the West Country with him now…’ He paused. ‘I would have expected Jess to have been promoted upwards again by now. But the higher you climb the harder it gets. There are fewer officers in the higher ranks than in the lower ones, it’s as simple as that.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Meredith suggested, ‘she doesn’t want to be tied to a desk? She was one of those people who like to do things themselves, as I remember her.’

  ‘It ran in the family,’ her husband said. ‘Her brother worked for some medical charity and always seemed to be in war zones. What I’m thinking,’ he went on, ‘is that I should phone Ian tomorrow. It’s only courtesy, after all. Ian will remember the original investigation all too well. He’d not long been in CID and was keen to make his mark. The failure to clear it up has probably been gnawing at him all these years. I’d like to hear what he remembers. And perhaps I should pay a visit to Brocket’s Row.’

  ‘Do you mean talk to Auntie Nina, by any chance?’

  ‘Absolutely talk to Auntie—I mean, talk t
o Mrs Pengelly. Although Barker might think that smacks of me doing my own investigation.’

  ‘So, let me go and chat to her,’ Meredith said calmly. ‘Any call I pay on Mrs Pengelly is purely social and, um, in the way of a natural concern. Josh has become a familiar sight here. He’s a friend. When officers come knocking on her door wanting to talk to him about the body in the spinney, the poor old lady will be very upset. We should forewarn her, if Josh hasn’t done so already.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Markby, after considering the matter ‘from all angles’ in his wife’s habitual phrase. ‘Barker can’t stop you. He hasn’t told you to leave it with him. If he says anything to you, tell him it’s your early training looking after distressed Brits in far-off places. While you’re there, get Mrs P to reminisce about Josh and Dilys when they were kids. That shouldn’t be difficult. It will probably be more difficult to stop her wandering down memory lane! See if she remembers the children coming home one day looking worried or particularly upset. Find out who else lived in the row of houses at the same time and if any of the residents still live there. Someone else might have seen something. Although, whether anyone will remember after twenty years is another matter!’

  After a moment, during which Meredith stared at him thoughtfully, she asked, ‘Alan, are you bored?’

  Startled, he replied too quickly, ‘No! No, of course not. How could I be bored?’

  ‘Pretty easily, I imagine. I have been wondering about it, as a matter of fact, for some time.’

  She had quite taken the wind out of his sails, she thought, watching as the startled expression on his face turned into one of puzzlement and then something approaching panic.

  He leaned forward to ask earnestly, ‘Do you mean, really mean, that I’m boring?’

  ‘Of course I don’t!’ Now it was Meredith’s turn to be startled. ‘I just mean that back in the days when you were a copper, life was full of surprises. They weren’t all nice ones, usually quite the opposite! Cases were shocking, distressing, frustrating perhaps – and downright infuriating, at times – but never dull. I know you dreamed about retirement. You and I would be together and live in a house we could both love, and you’d have time to garden and I wouldn’t have to start every working day running down a station platform with a briefcase in one hand and a polystyrene cup of coffee in the other. Then, when we did get married and both of us retired, we had this house to knock into shape. There will always be something to be done; it’s that sort of house. But the big tasks have been tackled and now the garden is planned out, and you’ve got Josh to come over and help out with that. I’ve got my writing… I have wondered, from time to time, if you were just a little bit bored.’