A Cold Case

by Peter Turnbull

  ‘Well, I’m not likely to be going anywhere – not in the foreseeable future, anyway.’ Maurice Mundy looked out of the window of Pickering’s office at the dull, grey sky which hung like a blanket over central London. ‘So what’s going to happen to Tom Ingram?’

  ‘He stays.’ Pickering spoke firmly. ‘Sorry, but he stays. You go, he stays. It might seem unfair but he didn’t pursue his own agenda in respect of another case. You accessed Criminal Records, which you had no right to access, and you used your warrant card to gain access to felons who were serving prison sentences, all to pursue your own private agenda. It’s just as well you withdrew your complaint against William Tipton because visiting the man who tried to murder you would have made his trial impossible. It completely compromised the Crown’s case against him.’

  ‘But William Tipton didn’t know that and I got the signed confession, which is what I wanted,’ Mundy growled. ‘I got evidence that will overturn a wrongful conviction … not before time … and I exposed a bent copper in the process.’

  ‘Not your job!’ Pickering glared at Maurice Mundy. ‘Don’t you see? In neither case was it your job to do that. See what I mean? The right result by the wrong route. The moment you dug up dirt on Duncan Spate you should have notified A10. They investigate corruption in the Metropolitan Police … not you.’ Pickering put the brown envelope which contained the pieces of Maurice Mundy’s warrant card into his desk drawer and slammed it shut. ‘You know, Maurice, you really should have taken that advice you were given in the lift as you left your disciplinary hearing that time, all those years ago. You were just never cut out to be a copper.’

  ‘You were told about that?’ Mundy raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Yes.’ Pickering took a deep breath. ‘I was told. I had to be told before you joined the Cold Case Review Team why it was you never made it beyond the rank of detective constable. Not following procedure … A major felon walked free and potential prosecution witnesses were murdered, but that’s for you to live with; that’s for you to square with your conscience and rather you than me. You see, Maurice, back then you were too leftfield, you were just too leftfield, and you didn’t learn from it.’ Pickering paused. ‘So, fifty-five years old … do you have any plans before you reach state retirement age? Your police pension won’t be sufficient to live on, not when you’re retiring from your lowly rank. You know, if you don’t fancy driving a minicab some law firms hire ex-coppers as private eyes … It’s just a thought, Maurice.’

  ‘Funny you should say that.’ Mundy stood up. ‘In fact, I have a number to call. Please don’t get up.’ Mundy held his hand palm outwards. ‘I’ll see myself out. I know where the front door is.’

  Maurice Mundy and Janet Thackery turned off the path and leaned against the gate. Mundy noticed that the wooden gate was new but the stone gateposts and the rusted hinges on which it rested belonged to a much earlier era. They stood side by side with their hands resting atop the gate, looking out across a field in which a group of horses stood, with one horse, a dapple grey mare, standing away to the left of the field. Beyond the field was a small wood of leafless trees, in the branches of which a murder of crows was cawing loudly. Above was a grey, thick, low cloud covering the sky. After observing the horses in an autumn landscape for a few moments, Janet Thackery pointed to the dapple grey mare and said, ‘That’s you.’ Mundy thrust his hands into his duffel coat pockets and extracted a pair of leather gloves. ‘Leftfield, you mean?’

  ‘Yes,’ Janet Thackery replied approvingly, ‘very left.’

  ‘I don’t look particularly unhappy.’ Mundy tugged the gloves on to his hands. ‘In fact, if you ask me, I look quite content. It doesn’t look like I want to be in the middle of the field.’

  ‘I dare say that’s the answer.’ Janet Thackery let her eyes rest on the horse. ‘Leave you where you are content. So what will happen now? What will happen to poor Joshua Derbyshire?’

  ‘Poor, ill-served Joshua Derbyshire.’ Maurice Mundy replaced his hands on top of the wooden gate. ‘His case will be fast-tracked to the Court of Appeal, and with William Tipton’s statement his conviction will be quashed, not just deemed unsafe but fully overturned. He will be declared not guilty of the murder of Anne Tweedale and released from custody.’ Mundy paused. ‘He will receive a massive compensation payment but compensation is just that … compensation … it dulls the cutting edge. It softens the blow but it does not right the wrong. How can you give a man back twenty-eight years of his life which was wrongfully taken from him? He went to prison when he was seventeen. He’s never known a woman in the biblical sense … he’s never been out with his mates for an evening in the pub … he’s never travelled like young people do. In fact, he’s never been out of London in his forty-five years. He has, though, occupied the moral high ground – he has that satisfaction, and he’s proved that he could have coped with a mainstream education but he’ll need a lot of help to readjust to life on the outside. Geraldine Chisholm …’

  ‘Who is she?’ Janet Thackery turned to Mundy.

  ‘The reporter on the Catford Chronicle and Advertiser,’ Mundy reminded her.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Janet Thackery nodded. ‘Yes, sorry.’

  ‘She’s taking a motherly interest in him and seems willing to steer him through the period of adjusting, but it will be difficult. He’s going to have to learn to go into a diner when he’s hungry and choose what he wants to eat from the menu rather than eating what is put in front of him. He’ll have to learn to go into a supermarket and choose what to buy. He’s never made decisions in his life, not day-to-day decisions anyway. Geraldine said that she will help him through that.’

  ‘That’s very good of her,’ Janet Thackery commented.

  ‘She’s angling to get a true crime book out of it,’ Mundy explained, ‘so she’s not being totally altruistic, as she might say … but she’s there for him and that’s the main thing.’

  ‘And the Spates?’ Janet Thackery wrapped her scarf more tightly round her neck. ‘What of the father and son duo?’

  ‘Dunno,’ Mundy replied. ‘Dunno … that wheel is still in spin. Spate the younger is facing a disciplinary hearing which will want to know why he arranged to be notified of any CR check on Joshua Derbyshire and William Tipton despite not having a professional interest in either of them. If he keeps his job his cards will be well and truly marked and he won’t rise as far as he otherwise would … that’s if he keeps his job.’

  ‘What will happen to Anne Tweedale’s fortune?’ Janet Thackery shivered slightly.

  ‘That will all depend on whether Spate the elder is prosecuted,’ Mundy explained. ‘If he is successfully prosecuted then the forensic accountants will try to trace her money but that won’t be easy, not after thirty years. The Spates have had plenty of time to squirrel it away. But if the Crown Prosecution Service does not think that it is in the public interest to prosecute an eighty-year-old man who may or may not be suffering from senile dementia then the Spates will keep all Miss Tweedale’s money and Spate the younger will most likely inherit it in the fullness of time.’

  ‘That is so unfair.’ Janet Thackery brought her fist down on the wooden gate. ‘They had her murdered for her money and they get it—’

  ‘Only if Duncan Spate is not prosecuted, but quite frankly I can’t see that happening. So, yes … it is very unfair but life is unfair.’ Maurice Mundy gazed across the field at the horses. ‘If you look for fairness in life you’ll make yourself unwell.’

  ‘And you?’ Janet Thackery turned to Maurice Mundy, ‘What of you?’

  ‘Me? Well, as you know I have been retained by Thomas Greenall as a cash-in-hand plus expenses private eye to test the veracity of Crown witness statements. I’ll be working against the police, which will be a bit of a change, but oddly I’m feeling quite enthusiastic about the prospect.’ Mundy smiled. ‘But, as Tom Greenall says, it’s all to serve the ends of justice.’

  ‘That’s the leftfield coming out of you.’ Janet Thacker
y returned the smile. ‘Go with it. And Roberta … any development there?’

  ‘Yes, she’s accepted my invitation to risk my cooking. She’s coming over for a meal and has agreed to stay the night in my little guest room.’ Mundy looked up at the sky. ‘So she’ll be off the street for one night at least. That’s a step in the right direction.’

  ‘Good.’ Janet Thackery paused. Then she said, ‘Look, Maurice, why don’t you come over to my house … both of you? I’d like to cook for you … I’d like to do that.’

  Maurice Mundy laid his hand on Janet Thackery’s and she laid her other hand on his. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Thank you so very much.’