The Temptation

by Vera Morris

  Mabel and Dorothy came back into the room with the coffee tray.

  ‘That apple pie was the best I’ve ever tasted,’ Stuart said, taking Mabel’s hand as she passed him. ‘And as for that custard!’

  Mabel laughed. ‘I broke the housekeeping budget buying apples at this time of the year, and real cream went into the custard.’

  ‘So, it’s bread-and-pull-it for the rest of the week, is it, Mabel?’ Frank asked as he came in and went to his seat.

  ‘I think I can do better than that.’

  Coffee was poured and Stuart puffed away contentedly.

  Frank looked at Laurel, then Stuart. They both nodded. Frank looked pale.

  ‘Dorothy, Mabel. There’s something I have to tell you,’ he said.

  At the serious tone of his voice their faces tensed.

  ‘Not bad news, I hope, Frank?’ Dorothy said.

  ‘Not in the sense you mean, but yes, it is serious. I’m afraid I’ve let you all down. I’ve told Laurel and Stuart, and now I must tell you.’ He went to his desk and came back with the drawing of Carol and the tutor. He laid it on the table in front of Dorothy.

  ‘This is just as Ann Fenner described,’ she said, passing it to Mabel. ‘You can see it’s drawn by David. The boy must have seen them making love, if that’s what you can call it. Where did you get it, Frank?’

  He told them.

  ‘Why didn’t you show it to us with the others?’ Mabel asked, looking puzzled.

  ‘You didn’t want it to be her, did you, Frank?’ Dorothy asked, sighing and shaking her head. ‘I must say I am surprised. I had you down as a hard-to-seduce kind of chap.’

  Stuart snorted. Frank looked shocked. Mabel looked confused.

  ‘I can only apologise. It was extremely foolish of me,’ Frank said.

  ‘I don’t understand. Why did you do it, Frank?’ Mabel asked.

  Frank’s face reddened and he couldn’t seem to find the words.

  Laurel decided to step in. ‘Frank was attracted to Mrs Pemberton; she’s a very beautiful woman. We all do crazy things at times. Don’t we, Mabel?

  Mabel shot a glance at Stuart, who gave her a broad grin. ‘I suppose we do. Right, anyone want some more coffee?’ she said. Stuart passed his cup.

  Frank looked from Mabel to Dorothy. ‘You’ll forgive me?’

  ‘Silly boy, let that be a lesson to you. I hope you haven’t got tangled up with her. I didn’t say before but she’s got a bit of a reputation in Aldeburgh. Been seen with men who weren’t her husband. I should have mentioned it before, but it’s only gossip. If I’d known you were feeling frisky I’d have warned you off,’ Dorothy said, lowering her spectacles and giving Frank an old-fashioned look.

  It was the first time Laurel had seen Frank blush.

  Dorothy shook her head. ‘Tsch, tsch tsch.’

  ‘That’s enough, Dorothy. From what I hear, your time in the WAAF wasn’t all it should have been,’ Laurel said.

  Dorothy lit a cigarette, blew a stream of smoke at Laurel and smirked. ‘I can’t remember. That’s the blessing of getting older.’

  Stuart rapped on the table with a coffee spoon. ‘Any more confessions? No? Then I’d like to say on behalf of myself and Mabel that we’re both grateful the way you’ve put up with our problems. They’re over now. We’re both happy again, aren’t we, love?’

  Mabel smiled. ‘Yes, thank you. Frank, don’t worry about the drawing; you’ve shown it to us now. Boys will be boys.’

  Laurel was sure Frank wouldn’t like being equated with men who behaved like randy goats.

  ‘Thank you,’ Frank said, ‘you’ve all been very understanding. Shall we begin the meeting? Laurel would you start?’

  She told them about finding Luxton’s body and the photograph of the frightened boy in the cutlery drawer. The mood darkened as the implications of a possible connection between Luxton and the school became clear.

  Mabel took a deep breath. ‘I hope what you’re implying, Laurel, isn’t true. There’s nothing I hate more than children being messed with. If I’d ever caught a man touching my son, well, I’d probably still be in gaol.’

  ‘We have no proof of this, but we must inform the police of our suspicions. Laurel managed to get a word with Inspector Revie this morning,’ Frank said. He turned to her.

  ‘I didn’t say why you wanted to see him, but I told him it was urgent. He was involved with the post-mortem on Luxton at Ipswich this afternoon. I gave him our phone number and he said he’d contact Frank as soon as possible.’

  ‘Sam Harrop was a homosexual. Do you think he was a paedophile, Frank?’ Dorothy asked. ‘Could his death have something to do with the school and Luxton? I never heard he was like that. If it’s true and he was, then Nancy didn’t know about it. At least I don’t think so. I’m finding all this very confusing.’

  Mabel thumped the table. ‘We’ve got to do something. Those kiddies at the school could be in danger, if they aren’t all ready. What are you going to do?’ She glared at Frank and Stuart.

  Stuart reached out and took her hand. ‘Calm down, Mabel. No good going off half-cocked.’

  Laurel bit her lip. She looked at Frank who had his hand over his mouth. She knew it was no laughing matter, but she was grateful for some light relief after the past few days.

  Mabel gripped Stuart’s hand. ‘Sorry. It’s got me in a tizzy. I’ll shut up.’

  ‘Stuart, would you tell them what we found out at the school this morning,’ Frank said.

  Stuart laid down his now dead pipe. ‘Mabel, you won’t like this either. Brace yourself.’

  He told them about Peter’s death, the time it happened and how he and Frank felt it was important to see not only Peter’s death certificate, but also the boy’s who’d died at the school a few years ago.

  Laurel looked at Frank. ‘You think it could have been—’

  Her words were interrupted by the shrill ring of a phone.

  Frank picked it up.

  ‘Yes. Thank you for ringing me … Yes, I do need to see you urgently … tonight? … Yes … Hold on.’ He turned to the others. ‘Revie is willing to drive here now from Ipswich. Is that OK with everyone?’ He spoke into the phone. ‘Thank you. We’ll expect you in …? I’m grateful, Inspector Revie.’ He gave instructions on how to get to Greyfriars. He put the phone down.

  ‘I think something must have happened at the postmortem. He’s on his way.’

  Frank stared intently at the rest of the team seated round the dining table. They’d gone over the facts they’d present to Revie in minute detail. ‘Excellent. I think we’ve made a tight case to give to him. We know what we want him to do, but if he can reach those conclusions by himself, so much the better.’

  ‘He’s had a long day,’ Stuart said, ‘he’ll be tired, so he might be on a short fuse.’

  Dorothy bristled. ‘We haven’t been shirking, you know. I’ll soon sort him out if he gets ratty with any of you.’

  Laurel sighed. ‘No, Dorothy, this is the time for diplomacy and a bit of buttering up.’

  ‘Perhaps I’d be better off to bed,’ Dorothy said, looking hurt.

  Frank turned to her. ‘No, we need you here. You’re an important member of the team. It’s vital Revie sees we’re a well-organised, efficient and professional unit. Which we are. You’ll have to be gracious, offer to take notes, which he’ll refuse if he has any sense, and look every inch the organiser you are.’

  Dorothy smiled at him. ‘If you put it like that.’

  ‘You could try a bit of lipstick, I hear he’s not married,’ Stuart said.

  ‘Stuart Elderkin, mind your manners. Dorothy’s not like that,’ Mabel said. ‘I expect he’ll be hungry. I’ll see what I can rustle up for him. That should help to calm him down.’

  ‘Are we all getting supper?’ Stuart asked. Mabel shook her head and went to the kitchen.

  They waited in the sitting room. Frank lit a fire, and Laurel had glasses and bottles of whisky and beer ready. The scene
was set for the seduction of Inspector Revie. Frank was worried: if Revie didn’t play ball their hope of finding out what happened to David Pemberton would be so much more difficult. There were possible threads linking the deaths of the Harrops and Luxton to the school; they were poking out of the substrata, waving their cut-ends, like earthworms emerging from their burrows, looking for a partner to connect with. There weren’t any hard clues, just suspicious deaths and gut feelings. He didn’t know enough about Revie, how he worked, his ambitions, his integrity or his lack of it. From his meetings with him over the Harrops’ deaths, he thought he had a sharp mind, quick to catch on to the possibilities of possible murder of not only Sam, but Clara as well. Was he a risk taker, or would he play it by the book? When he saw him with Ansell he’d been willing to share the details of the Harrops’ post-mortems.

  The ringing of the front door bell ended his reverie. Dorothy, complete with freshly combed hair, a clean white blouse and bright red lipstick went to the door.

  ‘Inspector Revie. How good of you to come so late at night. I’m Dorothy Piff, the administrator of Anglian Detective Agency. Do come and meet the rest of the team. We’re in the sitting room. Can I take you coat and hat? Oh, a Gannex, such a reliable coat. Ready for all weathers, as I’m sure you are.’ There were mutterings from Revie.

  ‘Tart,’ Laurel said, smiling at the others.

  Frank and Stuart rose as Revie barrelled into the room. Nicholas Revie looked tired, the skin of his face was grey, but the bright blue eyes flashed as he looked at them in turn. He nodded to Laurel and Elderkin and was introduced to Mabel.

  ‘Inspector Revie, would you like a bite to eat? I know an important policeman like you won’t get much chance to have proper meals. I cater for all our team so they can spend their time working. How about a bacon sandwich? I’ve got some lovely smoked back and fresh bread.’

  Had she overdone it?

  Revie pursed his lips. ‘You’ve certainly got a treasure here,’ he said to Frank. ‘Thank you, I’d love a bacon sarnie. Got any HP sauce?’

  Mabel nodded, looking satisfied with her effort to help the meeting go smoothly. She glided off to the kitchen.

  ‘We were going to have a drink, Inspector. Would you like a whisky? Or is there anything else you’d fancy? Tea? Coffee?’ Dorothy asked.

  ‘I could murder a beer.’

  ‘Bottle of Adnams?’ Frank offered.

  ‘I think you’re all trying to worm yourselves into my good books,’ Revie said, parking his solid girth into an armchair.

  ‘I hope we’re succeeding,’ Frank said, passing him a full glass.

  The smell of crispy bacon and the tang of the brown sauce Revie had liberally spread on his sandwiches lingered in the room. Frank could see Stuart was suffering. Revie sat at the head of the dining-room table.

  ‘You’ve got a good set up here. I’m impressed. I think I might kidnap you,’ he eyed Mabel, ‘and take you back to headquarters. That was the best bacon sandwich ever.’

  Mabel simpered and Stuart glowered at him.

  ‘Right, let’s hear it. What have you got to tell me that’s so important?’

  Frank began by going over the David Pemberton case, including the finding of the drawings in David’s bedroom. Revie spent time staring at each one, he frowned when he looked at the drawing of the frightened boy, and gave extra time to the woman having sex with a man. Stuart told him about Ann Fenner and her revelations.

  ‘Interesting, but not relevant to the cases I’m dealing with,’ he said.

  Laurel explained her involvement with the Harrops, leading up to finding the bodies. ‘Samuel Pemberton was a homosexual, which Nancy Wintle will confirm,’ she said.

  Revie narrowed his eyes. ‘Did he like little boys?’

  ‘We don’t know, but it’s a possibility.’

  Stuart took up the story and told him about their findings at Chillingworth School.

  Revie frowned, his features gathering towards the centre of his face. ‘Two boys dead. We need to see the death certificates, don’t we?’

  Frank sighed with relief. ‘Yes, and you can get your hands on them more quickly than we can.’

  ‘And what if the name we think might be on those certificates, isn’t there?’

  ‘Then all we have are suspicions, and dead people who may or may not have been murdered. Can you tell us anything about Luxton’s death? We’d be grateful if you could tell us what the post-mortem revealed,’ Frank said.

  Revie leant back, thrusting out his belly. ‘If I had another of those bacon sarnies, my memory might get into gear.’ He smiled lasciviously at Mabel.

  She shook her head. ‘First time I’ve heard of HP sauce being good for the grey cells.’ She looked at Stuart. ‘Bacon sandwiches all round? And lots of coffee as well.’

  There were positive replies and Stuart’s mouth turned up at the corners.

  ‘Miss Mabel, you’re a treasure,’ Revie said. ‘Would you mind if I told them about the post-mortem while you’re busy in the kitchen?’

  ‘I think that’s a good idea. I don’t want to hear details as I’m eating bacon.’

  Somehow bacon sandwiches lost their allure.

  ‘Ansell performed the PM,’ Revie said. ‘He’s a thorough worker and I trust his findings.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Frank said.

  ‘As you know, Luxton’s throat was cut. I wanted to know whether he’d done it himself or someone else had killed him. Unfortunately, Ansell can’t be sure, but he’s favouring murder.’

  Laurel gasped. ‘Poor man. He must have been terrified. He didn’t seem in control of himself on the Friday night. If only he’d stayed with his deputy, he might still be alive.’

  Frank leant towards Revie. ‘What made Ansell suspicious?’

  Revie frowned. ‘Not sure if I can remember all the details or the correct jargon, but the main suspicious factor was the cut in the throat. Ansell thought there was bruising in the region of the cut, but the tissue was so damaged he couldn’t be sure. Also in most suicides the cut is upwards, left to right, for a right hander and right to left for a left hander. This cut was straight across and really deep.’ He took a long drink of beer.

  ‘The windpipe … what do you call it?’ he continued.

  ‘Trachea,’ Laurel replied.

  ‘That’s it. Cut right through. Happens sometimes, so not suspicious. Ansell said in suicides you don’t usually get the deeper structures like the food pipe . what do you call it?’ He looked at Laurel

  ‘Oesophagus,’ Laurel replied.

  ‘That’s it, you don’t get that or the vertebrae damaged. Luxton’s oeso … food pipe, was cut through and his neck bones were nicked.’

  ‘All that blood was from the veins and arteries?’ Laurel asked.

  ‘That’s right, arteries are deeper than veins. Those are the reasons Ansell thinks Luxton was murdered.’

  ‘Inspector Revie, I’ve got a confession to make,’ Laurel said.

  ‘Call me Nick. You must come in handy, Laurel, knowing all the parts of the body. Perhaps I’ll kidnap you as well as Mabel. Ever thought of joining the police?’

  Laurel shook her head. ‘When I tell you what I did while Dr Neave was phoning the police you may think differently. I found a photograph of a young boy under the cutlery drawer in the kitchen.’

  ‘Had a snoop, did you?’ Revie laughed. ‘We did find it. Anything else you found?’

  ‘No, but I thought some papers might have been removed.’

  ‘I think you ought to join the force. You’re wasted here with this lot.’

  ‘Sorry, you can’t have her, she’s ours,’ Frank said.

  Laurel picked up the drawing of the frightened boy and placed it before Revie. He looked up at her, his eyes narrowing. ‘Yes, I saw the likeness to the photograph. It could be him and this could be the connection. I think I’m going to have to see the chief constable. This could be tricky. First I need to get the death certificates of the two boys.’

 
; Mabel came in with a tray of coffee and a plate of bacon sandwiches. Revie grabbed one and started devouring, Stuart joined in, Laurel shook her head and Frank said he’d prefer another whisky.

  Revie gulped down the sandwich. ‘I can’t tell the chief about the involvement of you lot.’ He wiped grease from his chin with a paper napkin. ‘You keep quiet about what you’ve found and I’ll help if I can, with information about this David Pemberton. Although I can’t see the connection. He ran away from home, didn’t he? Unless he went back to the school. But why would he do that?’

  Chapter 22

  Tuesday, 16th March, 1971

  Laurel parked her Cortina on the Pembertons’ drive. She glanced at her wristwatch. Exactly ten. Adam Pemberton hadn’t yet been interviewed and Frank had asked her if she’d do it. She hoped she wouldn’t see Carol Pemberton, although part of her was curious to see her in the flesh. She hoped if she did she’d be able to hide her feelings about the woman; she shouldn’t be biased, but she was on Frank’s side.

  It was only as she got out of the car she felt the biting north-easterly wind. It was a cold but bright late winter day; as she’d driven into Aldeburgh on the Thorpeness road the sea had glittered below an almost cloudless sky.

  The door was opened by Ann Fenner, who Laurel recognised from David’s drawing and Stuart’s description.

  ‘Miss Bowman? Mr Pemberton is waiting for you in the library. Would you like some coffee?’ Her smile was warm and welcoming. Stuart had made a good impression.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  Ann Fenner opened a door. ‘Mr Pemberton, Miss Bowman is here. Shall I bring in coffee for two?’

  ‘Please, Ann,’ a tall, serious-faced man said, getting up from a leather armchair, and putting a newspaper down on an occasional table. ‘Miss Bowman. Please take a seat.’ He shook hands then waved to an armchair.

  He looked tired and strained. She wondered if he knew about his wife’s unfaithfulness. It was hard to imagine he wouldn’t have any suspicions, although often the husband or wife was the last to know what their other half had been up to.