Generations of Love

by Wendy Pulford

  After reading his father’s letter, Peter could well believe that to be true.

  ‘I agree with Dougie, it might be a good idea if everything was sorted through and we could piece together some sort of picture of my father’s finances and how he funded things. It might shed some light on this bank statement thing.’

  ‘I think Amy’s the best person to help in something like this, Peter. Shall I ask her to take a look?’

  ‘That would be fine, Sarah.’

  He turned to Dougie. ‘Well, come on then, let’s go and try our Sherlock Holmes disguises. Do we want a camera or anything?’

  *

  Dougie had already established that work at the Fulham property was being carried out during the evenings, and sure enough, as they turned into Church Road, there was a builder’s van outside the property.

  Peter had been back to the vicinity twice in his adult life: first with Sarah, who had shown him the grave in St Luke’s churchyard; and then he had come back himself, for some strange reason, just before he took his final law exams. On each occasion he had felt a strange mixture of familiarity and connection, together with a tremendous sense of loss. He stood for a moment, looking at the house. This was the property which had meant so much to his parents. If things had been different, it could have been his home for many years while he grew up, and he could have had brothers or sisters and played with them in the garden. Now it was just a building, and someone else’s at that.

  The front door stood open and banging could be heard at the rear. Dougie called out, and after a moment a man appeared, covered in brick dust.

  ‘I know this is going to sound strange to you, but my friend and I are local amateur crime writers. We understand that many years ago an incident happened in this house, and we were hoping to have a look around in this hallway area and do some reconstruction of the events, role play, measuring, that sort of thing. Do you have a problem with that?’

  The workman looked at the two of them for a moment, a perplexed look on his face, then shrugged his shoulders. ‘No problem of mine, there’s nothing you can nick, anyway, is there.’ He indicated the bare walls and stairs. He ambled back to the rear of the property.

  Dougie winked at Peter and beckoned him inside.

  ‘Go up to the bend in the stairs, Peter and hold your arm out straight as if you were aiming a gun. I’ll stand here near the front door where Fowler said he was.’

  Peter did as he was told, although not liking the idea. He was here where it had all happened, and he could sense the ghosts. Standing on the stairs, pretending with an imaginary gun, was far too close to reality.

  ‘Right. Now, Peter, take a rough look along your arm. What part of the wall are you aiming at?’

  After a moment of concentration Peter fixed on an area at the intersection of the internal and external walls about three feet up from the skirting board, and guided Dougie to the spot.

  ‘Right, Peter, let’s have a look. It’s been wallpapered a couple of times by the look of it.’ He scraped and prodded around the area for a good five minutes, widening his search all the time. Then he turned to Peter with a smile. ‘See what I see?’

  Peter crouched down and looked at the spot on the wall indicated by Dougie. There was a small depression in the bare plaster, and running his fingers over it he could feel there was something at the centre.

  ‘See if you can ease it out with this, Peter.’

  Dougie handed over a penknife and as he bent to the wall, cautioned him, ‘Work to get the plaster away, and try not to touch the metal. We need all the evidence we can get, still intact.’

  After a few moments of careful prodding around, with a grunt of satisfaction Peter eased out a small piece of metal. He handed it to Dougie.

  ‘Bingo! You see what I mean, Peter? It’s been here all the time. If the whole event had been explored a bit more at the time, it would have been discovered then. We’ll have this checked out, but I’m sure we’ve found what we’re looking for. We’d better do some measuring and take some photographs.’

  After another twenty minutes they had all they needed. Dougie called out to the workman that they were just leaving, and received a shout in reply.

  As they left, Peter turned back to look at the house. For so many years it had kept its secret safe, just waiting for him to come back and find it. He shook his head in anger. He was just being fanciful now, but he said a small, silent ‘thank-you’ anyway.

  Dougie dropped him back home. Another meeting with the Ravens had been fixed for Friday evening, and he said he hoped to have some further information to report then.

  Peter asked to borrow Sarah’s car. He needed to see Christa.

  *

  As Peter arrived, Christa had just finished one of her regular telephone calls with her father. She had made a point of not telling him of her mugging, knowing full well that he would have demanded she return home. She was missing him, however. Now, much to her disappointment, he had told her that his anticipated visit to the UK would have to be postponed. For once, she found it hard to be her usual positive self.

  She listened while Peter told her about his father’s letter.

  ‘The poor man must have been so worried. It’s nice for you to have such a personal memento of him, though. I’d like to read it some day, if you’d let me.’

  ‘Of course I will.’

  Peter then went on to tell her of his visit to Franklin, and his worries about how his questioning might have been received. He finished by telling her of tonight’s developments at the house.

  She gave a heavy sigh. ‘There seems to be so much evidence to find, Peter. We’re amassing bits and pieces, but is it getting us anywhere?’

  They were sitting together on the settee and Peter regarded her, his grey eyes now rather sombre. She guessed he had sensed her mood, and she found herself drawn into his arms with her head against his shoulder. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

  ‘I know, Christa. But everything we do find is a step in the right direction. What Dougie and I have discovered tonight is a major step, and above all else I want my father’s name to be cleared. This other business might have to be handed over to professional agencies to unravel.’ He put his chin down onto her hair. ‘You can see what my father thought he was up against in gathering evidence with his small resources.’

  He was quiet for a moment.

  ‘I don’t suppose you’ve had time to search for anything?’

  It had not been a productive search so far with the limited time available to her, but she offered one report which had caught her eye.

  ‘One thing I came across was that late in 1975 the Parliamentary offices of the Labour Party were broken into and drawers were rifled through. MI5 became involved. There was no follow-up report. It might be something – or nothing.’

  ‘Mmm. It’s difficult to say, I agree. Still, we’ll add it to the pile. I want to find out a bit more about this Aubrey Potter who Franklin mentioned. If he went into the Civil Service he might tie in with this Francis person.’

  Christa twisted around in his arms and looked up at him. ‘Peter, how concerned are you about Franklin’s reaction to your questions? I agree with Luigi. I don’t trust him an inch.’

  ‘He didn’t appear to be curious. I tried to be as casual as I could. I found it more difficult than I thought to be there with him, Christa. For so many years I’ve believed the story as told, and now everything’s been stood on its head. Watching him sitting there, I kept thinking about the things I had heard, and wondered how he could be so calm, talking with me over a glass of whisky, but knowing the truth all the time.’

  ‘The crime writer on my Canadian paper said that some criminals justify their actions to themselves and don’t have a conscience. It was never their fault they were doing what they did; someone else did an act against them which started it all off. They
were the victims. He also said they enjoyed the power of manipulating people. It was a game they played; because they could.’

  ‘I’ll bet he’s not far off. I wonder what Franklin’s tipping point was? I’m beginning to think that Jonathan Raven’s right: we need Franklin to tell us himself.’

  ‘He would never admit to anything.’

  ‘You never know. He might have such a high opinion of himself that he would feel flattered he was being considered as a master criminal.’

  Christa took hold of Peter’s hand. ‘Please be careful. I don’t like the man. I’m afraid.’

  Without warning, Peter stood up. She watched in puzzlement as he turned on the radio and found some dance music. With a slight smile he came back towards her. As all those weeks ago at the hotel, in his navy blue suit and wavy dark brown hair curling on his collar, she thought what an attractive man he was. He gathered her into his arms, and began to dance in time to the soft, slow rhythm.

  As his mouth covered hers she heard him whisper, ‘Don’t worry, sweet Christa, there’s nothing to be afraid of.’

  *

  In a car parked in the street below, a man lit his third cigarette, looked at his watch and made another note. ‘Subject visited girl again. Still there at 10.30.’

  CHAPTER 25

  Luigi finished his telephone conversation. It had been on his mind for days before he came to a final decision. Michael Hartman should know what was happening. Luigi was worried for Peter. He was fearful of Franklin and his sinister power, and if Peter, without being aware of it, alerted him to any investigation, Luigi was certain he would not hesitate to act.

  Michael Hartman had missed out on Alex’s life. He should not miss out on another. Although Luigi would have preferred to speak to Michael face to face, or even written of the past events in a letter, something had to be done now; therefore his telephone call had to be made.

  His friend listened to Luigi’s story in total silence. For one moment after Luigi had finished speaking, as the silence continued, Luigi wondered if Michael had broken the call. Then he heard a long, heavy sigh.

  ‘Why did I have the feeling that something had happened? All that time ago, I thought it better to leave Alex to his own resources rather than taint his life with my wrongdoings. I sensed he had enough inner strength to make something of himself, given half a chance, and it sounds as though he did. I’m glad he found a good wife. If I’d done so, things might have been different.

  ‘What matters now is Peter. You are right, Luigi, my old friend, we must do what we can to help the boy. I have no doubt that your feelings about this Franklin person are not unfounded. He can still cause another tragedy to happen. I must come over. I’ll have to raise the cash this end—’

  ‘Michael,’ interrupted Luigi, ‘I’ve more than enough to live on in comfort. We’ll sort out the cost between us. Just come. Let me know when you can get over. Make it soon, my friend.’

  *

  The Ravens’ chambers were quiet, and almost eerie, at this time of night. Simon Kingsley, because of other commitments, was absent from the meeting. Peter had just reported on the financial information uncovered by Amy in working through his parents’ papers. He passed over her handwritten statement which, as he said, showed everything in order and accounted for in some detail, and no obvious financial problems with their lifestyle. Nothing indicated the existence of another bank account or other monies.

  He then went on to recount his visit to Franklin.

  ‘I’m certain I’ve seen books written by someone called Helsenburgh. Heavy political doctrines, far left wing, if I remember.’ Anthony Raven rubbed his chin. ‘I’ll look into it. As you say, Peter, we’d better investigate this Aubrey Potter. I might make some innocent enquiries at my Club tonight.’

  He looked at the younger man. ‘Do you think you got away with it?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Lying isn’t my best talent. He didn’t appear to react. He seemed more keen on drinking; more than I’ve seen him do before.’

  Anthony turned his gaze on Dougie. ‘Well, Sergeant, anything to report your end?’

  Dougie filled them in on his interviews with Sir John’s secretary and Superintendent Charles, and promised to report back as soon as any further information came to hand.

  Peter looked over at Dougie. ‘Just a thought, but Rankin looks a good bet as the chosen candidate of Franklin’s group for the vacant Met Commissioner’s post. How did it work out in the end?’

  ‘He was in charge on a temporary basis, but the permanent job was offered elsewhere. I’m told he went abroad, and I imagine we’ll have to try to track him down. By the way, Clarke’s being brought in for questioning. This will stir things up a bit. Might make people nervous.’

  ‘All the more reason for us to keep on top of the matter,’ Jonathan Raven commented.

  Dougie looked around the room. ‘I’ve had a thought. It must have been going back to the house the other night that jogged my memory of something Alex mentioned to me. I should have twigged it before. I remember him saying that Franklin had made a surprise visit to the Fulham property when Catherine was alone. She told him that her uncle appeared to wish for some sort of reconciliation. He brought a belated house-warming present with him; some sort of ornament, I believe. Young Peter was admired, and then he left.

  ‘Alex was a little unsettled about all this because their address hadn’t been disclosed to Franklin, and he mistrusted his motives. Catherine, as usual, was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt. I’m just wondering if Alex’s misgivings were quite correct. What was the ornament? The bronze figurine, by any chance? If you remember, Fowler was told just where to find his weapon. Also, Fowler said he’d been given a new key to let himself into the house. Maybe an imprint of the original was taken, and a copy made. Could Franklin have managed to do this on his visit? It’s possible, if he was told how, and had the time.’

  ‘Isn’t this giving Franklin a more active role in events than normal?’ queried Luigi.

  ‘Indeed, but perhaps he thought this way he could cover himself in the light of any future events, which he knew very well would happen. He would appear as a genuine visitor trying to re-establish family relations. The good guy. I think he played this sort of game before with the death threat letter that brought Alex and I into the matter in the first place. We suspected there never was a threat, and he might have written the damn thing himself. He was trying to throw a smoke screen over his court case actions.

  ‘Don’t forget, his plan at Fulham didn’t intend for Alex to be killed. He wanted Alex in prison for murder, and anticipated that he would then have almost total control of Peter, as an upstanding, respected family member. No doubt he allowed for the fact that Alex would protest his innocence, but what proof was there to back it up, with the evidence stacked against him, and Rankin in a position to block any further investigation? Francis, and whoever was in charge of him, might not have wanted or been able to show their hand. What Franklin didn’t bargain for were the Wills. I bet that must have thrown him into a panic.’

  Luigi spoke up. ‘Both Sarah and I were unhappy about any involvement with Franklin as far as Peter was concerned, but we also had to do the best for him, and felt bound to accept Franklin’s offer of financial and educational assistance.’ He looked over at Peter, genuine regret etched on his face. ‘I’m sorry, my boy.’

  Peter gave him a fond look. ‘Don’t worry about it, Luigi. You were all doing your best for me at the time.’

  He looked around the room. ‘You know, I’ve been thinking, if Franklin still wants to keep control of any monies coming to me, something has to happen soon. I think you were right Jonathan when you indicated that I had been manoeuvred into losing my position in these chambers. He doesn’t appear to like me making independent decisions. He hoped that I would fall back on his assistance again to find another position, and seemed surprised th
at once more I had done so by myself. The other night I went to great pains to try to convince him that through this new job I was making useful contacts for myself. He became quite upbeat about that, and encouraged me. Perhaps he now sees me as an avenue to other financial influences for him.’

  ‘I think you’re right, Peter. We might need to cultivate that idea in him. He might just trip himself up,’ confirmed Jonathan Raven. ‘Anything else, Sergeant?’

  Dougie glanced over at Peter with a grin. ‘We’ve found the missing bullet.’

  ‘What?’ Astonished glances shot around the room.

  Dougie went on to explain the visit to Fulham and its result. ‘The downside is that I was hauled over the coals for not doing it by the book. They’re not sure what the Courts are going to make of it. The bullet’s been tested and appears, as far as can be seen, to be the same standard calibre as would have been issued to Alex for his weapon that last evening. We have the written records still, but not the firearm itself to make further tests; and, of course, just one spent casing was ever found. We could always surmise that Fowler picked one up before he left, as damage limitation when things went wrong, hoping it would look like suicide.’

  Anthony Raven was making notes. ‘Alright, leave that with us. We’ll see what the legal ramifications are of that discovery.’

  For what it was worth, Peter offered the information Christa had managed to find from back copies of the newspapers.