White Lilies

by R. C. Bridgestock

  ‘Keep me updated,’ Dylan said, picking up his pen thoughtfully and scribbling a few notes on his blotter.

  ‘Winston will be buried with Grace, the coroner’s officer told me. Don’t you think that’s sweet?’

  ‘Stop being soft and find out who mowed them down and why,’ Dylan grunted and he turned his attention back to his computer screen.

  Taylor shrugged her shoulders and left the office.

  Dylan picked up his mobile phone when he heard the door close behind her. Fancy meeting up for lunch? X, he texted Jen.

  Lovely, she texted back, with a smile on her face.

  Will you get the food? My office at 12? X

  I have to get the food as well?

  ‘Have they found the driver or the car yet?’ Jen asked Dylan as she popped a cherry tomato in her mouth. Dylan, with his mouth full, could only shake his head. He took a sip of his coffee.

  ‘How could anyone leave a person to die like that?’ Jen said, taking a bite of her sandwich.

  ‘You shouldn’t judge people by your own standards,’ he said. ‘Whoever did it most likely would have panicked. They might be a disqualified driver, a drink driver, or drugged up to high heaven. We’ll only know that when we trace him or her.’

  ‘Talking of panic, I’d better go,’ she said, collecting the dirty plates. ‘I only get forty-five minutes, not like you. Some of us have to clock in and out, otherwise Beaky will have my guts for garters and I can’t bear the thought of one of her moods this afternoon,’ she said, pulling a face.

  ‘Okay, love. I’ll see you later,’ he said as Jen stood to leave. He looked up at her. ‘What about my kiss?’ he asked. Jen leaned over the desk to kiss him.

  ‘Mm… You’ll get me the sack, you temptress,’ Dylan said.

  ‘Good. Then we’ll be able to spend all the time together,’ she giggled.

  He watched her walk to the door.

  ‘Nice bum,’ he growled.

  She stopped at the doorway, turned and gave him a knowing smile.

  ‘Get back to your work, mister, and catch those criminals, otherwise we won’t have any pennies to spend on the things we need for junior,’ she said, patting her stomach. Dylan smiled.

  The death of a family member creates all sorts of upset. There are guilt trips. Should I have visited more often? Could I have done something for them? Dylan thought. Jen had coped extremely well since her mum’s sudden death but every time there was a fatal accident such as Grace Harvey’s he knew it brought it all back. Dylan would love nothing more than to be able to protect Jen from her thoughts but he knew it was impossible. He had to let her work through the grieving process like everyone else.

  Vicky put her head around the office door. ‘Ah. Nice to see you all loved-up, boss,’ she grinned at him.

  ‘You don’t get round me that easy, lady. What’re you after?’

  ‘Nothing, honest. I’m just pleased I’m not on the new DS’s team.’

  ‘And what’s wrong with Taylor Spiers?’

  She pulled a face. ‘Don’t know but there’s just sommat about her. Call it women’s intuition, whatever, but I can’t seem to bring myself to take to her,’ she said thoughtfully.

  ‘That’s not like you, Vicky,’ Dylan said to his normally bubbly, friendly DC. ‘Anyway, if you concentrated on passing your exams instead of working all hours to save up for your boob jobs, it could have been you that was my new sarge.’

  ‘I might shock you one day, boss,’ she said grinning.

  ‘You do now, regularly,’ he laughed.

  ‘Just watch your back, eh,’ she said, with a wink and nod.

  Dylan’s phone rang and his telephone manner suggested to Vicky that she should leave him be.

  ‘Okay. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes,’ she heard him say. ‘Keep things sterile. I don’t want anything or anybody to cross the line. And when I say no one, I mean no one, do you hear?’

  Chapter Six

  Pam rummaged around inside her bag and grabbed her ringing phone just before it went onto the answer machine. She looked up into the big, round, staring eyes of a salivating Billy.

  ‘Hi Mum. No, no. I hadn’t forgotten. Yes, at your shop. Bye,’ she said through teeth that chattered uncontrollably, she didn’t quite know why. It wasn’t cold – fear? ‘Sorry, I’ve gotta go. I’ve got a riding lesson,’ she said, looking at Danny and then at her watch, ‘like in the next fifteen minutes. I’m really sorry,’ she grimaced.

  Danny turned and started the car engine in silence.

  Now he’d be mad with her and there was no chance she would ever be invited again, she conceded.

  ‘Lucky horse,’ sniggered Billy as he looked sideways at Danny.

  ‘Where d’you want dropping?’ asked Danny, his voice flat and expressionless.

  ‘In the high street, please.’

  ‘What sort of shop’s your mum got?’ Danny said as he dragged the car’s wheels round in the gravel.

  ‘Flower shop,’ she said, quietly.

  They travelled in silence and Danny brought his car to a sudden halt in town. Billy appeared to be asleep.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, lurching forward.

  ‘No prob,’ he said with a smile. ‘I’ll see you soon, kid.’

  Pam saw her mum emerge from the shop and look at her watch. Seeing her, Pam ducked down behind Billy’s seat. Billy jumped. ‘What?’ he shouted as his friend poked him in the ribs.

  Danny pointed towards Stephanie. ‘Pam’s mum,’ he drawled.

  ‘So that’s where you get your looks from, eh?’ said Billy, whistling long and low.

  Pam felt her face turn red.

  ‘What’s your dad do?’ asked Danny.

  ‘He’s got a dentist’s down the road,’ she said, her head still tucked behind the seat.

  ‘No way. Dentists freak me out.’

  ‘She gone yet?’

  ‘Yeah, coast clear. You can come out now.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I’ve had a nice time.’

  Billy stumbled out of the car and pulled the front seat forward for her. He leaned heavily on the open door.

  ‘Like I said, no prob,’ Danny told her. ‘We’re a bit low on petrol. You don’t happen to have any cash on you, do you?’ he asked, as she started to step out.

  ‘I’ve got a tenner if that’s any good?’ said Pam, flopping unceremoniously back in her seat.

  ‘That’d be good, yeah,’ he said smiling. ‘I wouldn’t normally ask but … I’ll give it you back next time.’

  ‘Next time?’ asked Pam, her heart pumping.

  ‘Yeah, we must do it again some time,’ he said, holding out his hand. She hesitated as she reached into her schoolbag. Handing Danny the ten-pound note meant their fingers touched. Her heart skipped a beat at what felt like an electric current running from his hand to hers. She looked at his face but his eyes were on the money. She wondered if he’d felt it too.

  He pulled his hand back quickly, taking the ten-pound note from her, and leaned forward. Was he going to kiss her? She closed her eyes briefly and leaned towards him.

  ‘You getting out or what?’ he said, as he stuffed the note into his pocket.

  How stupid she was. She got out of the car in a fluster.

  ‘What’s your mobile number?’ Billy asked. Pam took out a pen, tore a piece of paper from a school book and wrote it down. She handed it to Danny.

  ‘Come on, places to go, people to see,’ Danny said, tapping his foot slightly on the accelerator, which made the engine purr.

  Pam stood back as Billy jumped in the car and Danny pulled away from the kerb with a screech. With a long, loud sounding of the car’s horn they sped away, leaving her standing on the kerb watching them till they turned the corner out of her sight.

  ‘No alarm,’ Billy muttered.

  ‘What?’

  ‘There was no alarm on the shop.’

  ‘Wonder how much float she keeps in the till? There’s not much else to nick in there, is ther
e?’ Danny said. ‘Bet there’s more in her dad’s gaff.’

  ‘Let’s do a drive past,’ Billy said, his eyes now wide and bright as he looked admiringly at his mate.

  ‘I think we might have just found ourselves a little meal ticket there,’ Danny said, as he turned to his friend. They both let out a squeal of delight.

  ‘She’s fit too,’ Billy said, wiping his runny nose on his sleeve. ‘I wouldn’t mind giving her one.’

  ‘Patience, Billy,’ Danny laughed.

  ‘It’s you she likes,’ Billy said, with a snivel. ‘She fancies you summat rotten, I can tell.’

  ‘Don’t worry, me old son, we share everything, don’t we?’ Danny said, his grin widening as he noticed his friend’s downbeat look.

  ‘Shall I text her? Find out where she lives?’ Billy said, eagerly.

  ‘Yeah, go on then.’

  Pam replied immediately.

  Danny laughed as his friend read out the address. ‘How naive can you get?’ he shook his head.

  I were sad wen u ad to go but u cud sends me a pic l8ter to cheer me up. Billy spoke as he texted.

  My hair looks such a mess when I’ve been out riding. She texted back. Billy read it out to his friend.

  ‘Silly cow, as if we’d be looking at her face,’ Billy roared.

  ‘Ask her to meet us tomorrow at the same place,’ Danny said. Billy concentrated hard to spell out the text.

  Pam’s phone beeped loudly.

  ‘Who’s got their phone on?’ shouted the riding instructor. ‘Give it to me now, Pamela. You can have it back at the end of the lesson,’ she said, taking the phone and putting it into her riding jacket pocket.

  Pam put her foot in the stirrups and climbed up onto her horse reluctantly.

  Chapter Seven

  Grace Harvey’s thatched cottage was just like a picture postcard image, Taylor thought, as she strolled along the country garden pathway that divided the magnificent flower display. The wild flowers looked delicate but their scent was intoxicating.

  Taylor knocked at the big, heavy wooden door. As she waited for an answer, she turned and surveyed the garden from the doorstop. Her gaze fell upon a lavender bush nearby and she leant across and squeezed the top of a pointed flower head. She put her fingertips to her nose and breathed in the scent, which was both soothing and calming. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  Taylor could smell chamomile and vanilla too, what a lovely combination. The fragrances were having a sobering effect on her until the creaking of the church-like door as it opened jolted her back to the present with a start.

  The giant of a man that stood before her wore gym shorts, a once white T-shirt and Wallabies without laces. His hair was wild and his beard straggly. If she had seen him on the street she would have presumed him homeless but his clothes weren’t stained enough for a vagrant.

  ‘Donald Harvey,’ he announced with an unexpected gentlemanly voice and a white-toothed smile as he offered her his hand.

  ‘DS Taylor Spiers,’ she said, flashing her warrant card at him. Donald stepped aside and gallantly waved her into the house before him.

  With a dramatic sweep of his arm, he cleared the dining room table of the papers. He took an old, battered suitcase off a chair, brushed the seat down and offered it for her to sit on.

  ‘I’m so glad you’ve come, ma’am. I think my mom has been taken for one hell of a ride,’ he said, picking up a handful of documents from the floor and shaking them before her eyes. ‘I should have been here,’ he said, putting his free hand up to his brow as he leaned heavily on his elbow. ‘Then, this would never have happened,’ he sighed. Harvey’s eyes looked up at Taylor as if emotionally wounded.

  ‘The man is a vulture,’ he suddenly cried. Taylor jumped. ‘Mom cashed in the equity of this house but I can’t trace a penny of money that she released,’ he said, with tears now visible in his eyes and a lump in his throat. ‘I’ve rung him. But he tells me that everything he’s done was her wish and all above board,’ he swallowed hard. ‘According to these papers it looks like she was about to lose the roof over her bloody head too, ma’am.’

  DS Spiers raised her hand. ‘Now let’s take this slowly, eh? Firstly, it’s Taylor or Detective Sergeant Spiers. You don’t need to call me ma’am – you make me sound like Miss Marple.’

  ‘Whatever. I don’t care, I just want you to find out what he’s done with the money he’s stolen. I want you to arrest him.’

  ‘Mr Harvey, please, tell me precisely who you want me to arrest and for what reason? I can’t detain anyone without evidence.’

  Donald Harvey looked pale and tired. He sighed again. His breath stank of stale alcohol.

  ‘My mom, Grace Harvey, it appears has signed over her house to an equity release company,’ he said, pointing at a document on the table, ‘arranged by her financial advisor Brian Stevenson, and I can’t trace any of the money that, according to these papers, has been released. Is that clear enough for you?’

  Donald picked up an old Harrowfield Building Society book that lay among the paperwork and threw it in Taylor’s direction. It landed on the table with a slap, but she didn’t flinch.

  ‘It’s just not like her. She’s always been so careful with her money. She’s not stupid … was not stupid,’ he said, coughing into the palm of his hand.

  DS Spiers took out her pocket book and started making notes.

  ‘Do you know this Brian Stevenson?’ Taylor asked.

  ‘No, do you?’ said Donald. DS Spiers shook her head, holding his gaze.

  ‘All I know about Brian Stevenson is that he was a friend of Dad’s,’ said Donald.

  DS Spiers nodded and allowed him to continue.

  ‘They worked together at one time and became friends. When Dad died, Mom relied on Brian to take care of her finances, probably because I wasn’t around … I suppose she trusted him because he was Dad’s friend. I’ve found some old pictures. Look.’ Donald showed her a snap of a young guy with his arm round an older gentleman at a presentation ceremony. The older man was the spitting image of the man sat in front of her but his hair was grey.

  Donald appeared a little calmer now.

  ‘Mom told me ages ago all about Brian Stevenson investing money for her, which I understood because she said it gave her a reasonable living,’ he said. ‘But from what I can see of her bank balance since Dad died, Mom has drawn money out and put nothing back. The receipts that she kept from Brian Stevenson show she was giving money to him on a regular basis, God knows what for, but it has made her almost destitute – which is obviously why she needed to draw upon the equity of this place.’

  DS Spiers listened and took notes.

  ‘I understood from Mom that he took her shopping, out for lunch, for hospital appointments. Look, these flowers are from him for her birthday,’ he said, pointing out the lilies on the dresser that were still in their wrapping. ‘I thought he was looking after her, being a friend, a companion. A son she didn’t have in me … I should have known that he wouldn’t do all that for nothing. I should have come home sooner.’

  ‘Mr Harvey, all I can do is promise I will look into your concerns. It would be very helpful if I could take away those documents,’ she said, standing up. Donald gathered the paperwork into a pile and ungraciously stuffed it into the old battered case before fastening it and handing it to her.

  ‘Well, they’re no good to me, are they?’ he said, looking defeated. ‘But keep them safe, won’t you? The evidence against Brian Stevenson is in there, I can assure you.’

  Saying her farewells at the gate, she noticed the car parked outside had recent damage to the front nearside wing. He sensed her interest in it.

  ‘Damn deer bounded straight out in front of me on my way here,’ he said, coming out of the gate after her. ‘And it’s a hire car.’ He ran his hand over the paintwork. ‘It shook me up. I can tell you,’ he said, laughing half-heartedly.

  ‘Have you reported it?’

  ‘No, not yet
, I didn’t see the point. The bloody animal got up and legged it. Should I?’ he said, with a sigh at the look on her face.

  DS Taylor Spiers eyed Donald Harvey with renewed interest as she watched him turn and walk back up the path with his hands in his pockets and his head down. She unlocked her car and got in. Sitting in the driving seat, she rang the police station and spoke with PC Tim Whitworth.

  ‘DS Taylor Spiers, I’ve been tasked with looking into the hit and run in Merton village and I understand from the accident report that you dealt with it?’

  ‘Y-e-s,’ Tim said, in a drawl.

  ‘Just a quickie. How sure are we that the glass found at the scene of the accident is from the offending vehicle? And are we best-guessing what the vehicle’s make is or was there sufficient debris to ensure there is no doubt?’ she asked.

  ‘Dunno yet.’

  ‘Ah, it’s just that I’ve just been with Grace Harvey’s son and his car has recent damage to the front nearside light casing and wing. He says he hit a deer.’

  ‘Not an old dear, I hope,’ he chortled.

  ‘Not funny,’ she sighed. ‘Look into it for me, will you? I need to know for certain,’ she said, ending the call and throwing her mobile on to the passenger seat before starting the engine. Her mobile rang instantly. She sighed, leant over and picked it up.

  ‘Taylor? Dylan. I’m on my way to a suspicious death at number eleven, Causeway Cottages. Can you meet me there?’