Silent Terror

by Ted Tayler

  “Ursula went to the same store to do her weekly shop on Saturday’s. They would have stories to tell. The café in the town centre was another of her favourite spots. The owner there will remember her.”

  “Many thanks, Mrs Butterworth,” said Neil. “We may come back if our boss thinks we need access to your old card records.”

  “I’ll speak to my superiors at the Council,” said Monica. “They may object, but if it’s going to help find Ursula’s killer, I’m sure we can work something out.”

  Neil and Blessing left the library and walked into the town centre.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Ursula Wakeley could be an unpleasant woman,” said Blessing. “yet Monica Butterworth still found it in her heart to defend her. I can’t imagine my English teacher being horrid to everyone she met and then discussing the Lake poets in glowing terms.”

  “The more we learn, the more I realise that Ursula was a troubled soul, Blessing,” said Neil. “I wonder what Gus and Lydia have uncovered? Ah well, let’s visit the café first. I’ll stand you a cup of coffee, and we can grill the owner.”

  “Can I have a toasted teacake too?” asked Blessing.

  “Don’t push it, just because you’re the new kid,” said Neil.

  The café was a bustling little place, ideally situated on the corner of the street opposite the town’s major row of shops—Neil and Blessing sat and people-watched as they waited to get served.

  “I wonder how many of these pedestrians Ursula insulted?” said Nel.

  “Shall we ask them?” asked Blessing.

  “Not until we’ve had something to eat and drink.”

  There were two members of staff hard at work. The younger girl looked across at Neil more than once. Just as Neil thought she was heading their way, someone caught her attention on a nearby table.

  “What can I get you?” said a voice. The older lady that looked as if she was in charge had crept up behind him.

  Blessing gave the order, and Neil waited until the lady returned with their coffees and teacakes.

  “Are you the owner?” he said.

  “That’s me. I’m Jenny Medcroft. What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” said Neil, “I’m sure it will taste wonderful. We’re with Wiltshire Police.”

  Neil and Blessing showed Jenny their warrant cards. She sat on a spare chair next to Neil.

  “How can I help?” she asked.

  “Do you remember the murder of a lady called Ursula Wakeley around five years ago?”

  “I do, Ursula was a regular in here. Sometimes she was alone, but other times she met up with her brother and his wife. Why?”

  “Were there occasions when you thought of asking her to leave or banning her?”

  “Every week, dear. Ursula could be a nightmare. It was just her way. There was no harm in her, or at least I never thought so. You know those people that suddenly blurt something out, they can’t control themselves. Ursula was like that.”

  “Tourette’s,” said Blessing Umeh.

  “That’s it, dear. I couldn’t remember the name. Ursula came in here, ordered a pot of tea and always sat in the same spot over there by the window. She watched the people walking past the window, and if she saw someone she didn’t like the look of, she’d say something, you know?”

  “Can you remember what she might say?” asked Neil.

  “Not the exact phrases, but something related to repenting your sins.”

  “Repent and turn again, that your sins may be blotted out,” said Blessing.

  “Do you know, that was one of her sayings,” said Jenny. “Ursula didn’t make a fuss; there was no waving her arms or banging on the window. Calm as you like, she’d sit there, stirring her cup of tea and say things like you just did.”

  “Did anyone argue with Ursula while she was in your café?” asked Neil.

  “Not that I can remember, dear. Becky might recall. Let me give her a shout. Becky?”

  A third staff member emerged from behind the counter. The woman resembled Jenny.

  “Becky Medcroft?” asked Neil taking a punt.

  “Becky Burden now, I’m married,” the woman replied.

  “These detectives were asking about Ursula, Becky. Can you remember her arguing with anyone in the café?”

  “There were those students that gave her grief one Saturday afternoon,” said Becky. “They stood outside the window right where she always sat and started snogging. They did it deliberately because they knew it annoyed her. We should discourage public displays of affection in public. That was one of her favourite expressions when she saw couples getting too close in here. Those kids never came in this café, though. We weren’t posh enough for them. Everyone in this café knew what Ursula was like. I won’t say that nobody took offence, but if you think someone killed her over a few words, then I can’t see it, I’m afraid.”

  “Can you remember any of the words she used, Becky?” asked Neil.

  “The Lord disciplines those he loves,” said Becky. “I remember that one because it didn’t sound right.”

  “God is a parent,” said Blessing. “You do not punish your child because you hate them and want to see them suffer. Most parents punish their children for their own good. So they can learn from the consequences of their actions and never repeat them.”

  “Well, I never punish my kids,” said Becky, returning behind the counter to the kitchen.

  “Blessing, am I right in thinking Ursula knew more about discipline than most?” asked Neil.

  “We should tell Gus Freeman this,” she replied. “Perhaps her parents were strict with her. If she suffered as a child, then that influenced the way she saw the world as she grew older. It could explain her outbursts. My teacake is delicious, Mrs Medcroft. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, I’m sure,” said Jenny Medcroft. “I must get on; customers are waiting. Was there anything else you needed to ask?”

  “I think that’s enough for now, Mrs Medcroft,” said Neil. “We’re off to the supermarket next.”

  When Blessing and Neil got outside, he walked along the pavement and stopped where Ursula used to sit. Blessing joined him and looked around.

  “It was a good vantage point to see most of the Square over there,” he said. “Ursula didn’t miss much, did she?”

  “I wonder what type of person made her shout out,” said Blessing. “It sounds as if she knew everyone’s weakness, doesn’t it? The drinkers, gamblers, and idlers, they passed by her window. The café we just left and the library. They are both good places to overhear gossip or to catch people meeting in secret. Ursula was a commentator on the sins of the modern world.”

  “That’s one way to describe it,” said Neil. “I don’t know whether Gus agrees.”

  “Mr Freeman is not a church-going man, so I’ve heard,” said Blessing.

  “Gus has a particular view on religion, Blessing. I think that’s fair to say.”

  “Who do you think was kissing by this window that day, Neil?”

  “Two students, Becky Burden, said. They will have left school, disappeared to a dark corner of the world to find themselves or got married, probably to different people by now. Let’s see what they have to say in the Co-op.”

  Thirty minutes later they made their way back to the car park in Castle Street.

  “They have a high turnover of staff, don’t they?” said Blessing.

  “The older bloke in the butchery department remembered Ursula,” said Neil. “He thought she was strait-laced and severe. Ursula was typical of women of his mother’s era who checked every rasher of bacon and sausage. Meat was still rationed until 1954. Unscrupulous butchers tried to fob people off with inferior quality cuts or wrap five sausages in a bundle instead of six. Ursula reminded that butcher of those times. She wanted everything just so. The manager of the store at the time retired last year, and the delivery drivers have changed. The butcher remembered the fuss Ursula made when she finished gathering her order every Saturda
y. Her shopping had to arrive at a precise time. Ursula stood on the doorstep, waiting for the van to stop outside her door.”

  “Why didn’t her brother help?” asked Blessing.

  “They don’t appear to have got on,” said Neil. “Gus will tell us more when we get back to the office, no doubt.”

  “Do you think we’ve made progress, Neil?”

  “We learned about the steel ruler, the relic from Ursula’s early days at the library. Spare the rod, spoil the child. Discipline keeps cropping up, doesn’t it? It has to be significant. I was interested in what use Ursula made of the telecentre thing. It doesn’t feel right. I’m not saying she was a technophobe, but she never had a mobile phone, no tablet or laptop at home. What did she access while she was in there?”

  “Ursula was a troubled soul,” said Blessing, “we keep coming back to that. Perhaps she was a simple soul too and played Solitaire or Free Cell. There must be plenty of downtime for a librarian in a small town.”

  “Would there be evidence of what she used the computers for?” asked Neil, “Surely she had to log on? What was her username, I wonder?”

  “You heard what Monica Butterworth said. Libraries have a strict code of ethics. Unless we have evidence that Ursula committed a crime, we’ll meet resistance. How would we discover her password, anyway? The library has had several upgrades to their systems too. Would Ursula’s activity still be accessible after five years? It might be a blind alley, Neil.”

  “You’re probably right, Blessing. I’ll tell you what though; we could check a list of names of library cardholders against their social media accounts—especially the younger ones. Someone such as Ursula would be certain to get a mention when they were chatting. We might get an idea of who wanted her stopped.”

  “You might have hit on a great idea there, Neil,” said Blessing.

  “I have them now and then,” said Neil.

  They returned to the Old Police Station office to discover that they had arrived before Gus and Lydia.

  “How did you two get on?” asked Luke.

  “We had coffee and toasted teacakes,” said Neil.

  “Lucky dogs,” said Luke, “I made several fruitless phone calls. However, the appointments for tomorrow at the church and with the shopkeepers in Ringwood are confirmed. Getting hold of Fabian Kite has proved tricky. Mel Jefferson is calling back this afternoon around five o’clock. Typical, I have to stay late. Nicky and I were playing squash tonight. Never mind, fill me in on what you learned about Ursula, the sinister spinster.”

  “I think that’s unfair, Luke,” said Blessing. “The character we’re uncovering divided opinion. One person told us she was eccentric but meant no harm. Another wrestled with her conscience before admitting Ursula used to hit children who misbehaved with a steel ruler when she worked there before her father died. Ursula had a brilliant mind and loved discussing literature with her colleague. Those who knew her for decades accepted her behaviour more readily than youngsters who came into contact with her.”

  “Yeah,” said Neil, “Blessing’s right. We only have the smattering of information in the murder file to use. Gus wanted us to discover what this woman did to make someone not only want to kill her but to torture her and mutilate her body after death. Ursula Wakeley might have annoyed people with her outbursts, but was that enough to trigger an attack as vicious and bloody as the one in those pictures on the wall? I can’t see it.”

  “You know what that means?” said Luke.

  “We already knew we weren’t dealing with a robbery that went wrong as Jefferson and Kite believed,” said Neil. “Now it feels less like a murder in response to things Ursula said or did.”

  “If Gus is right and there was an accomplice,” said Blessing, “then we’re looking for a pair of thrill-seeking killers.”

  “We won’t have long to wait to hear how they got on,” said Luke, “someone just called the lift.”

  Gus and Lydia arrived within a minute.

  “Good, you’re back,” said Gus, “we’ve had a very productive morning. I hope you three did too. Before we debrief, I suggest we get our reports updated in the Freeman Files.”

  Gus completed his task and looked around the office. Everyone was busy, except Luke.

  “Luke,” he said, “can you give me a list of people and times for tomorrow’s interviews, please? I want to allocate resources. That should give the others time to finish.”

  Luke took the schedule to Gus’s desk and placed it in front of him.

  “Jefferson is ringing me later today. Kite is abroad, somewhere in Europe, but he’s not answering any phone calls or emails. Ormrod and Dillon, the Ringwood shopkeepers, are available at two o’clock and three o’clock tomorrow afternoon, in that order. The Methodist minister, Horace Plant, can see us at eleven tomorrow morning. I’ve put Matthew Wakeley on standby for one o’clock. He can give us thirty minutes of his lunch break if you think we need to talk to him.”

  “Thanks, Luke. I want to talk to Mr Plant. Religion played a huge part in Ursula’s parent's lives and influenced her life to a great degree, even after their deaths. You and Neil could drive out to Ringwood tomorrow afternoon. I’ll ask one of the girls to chat with Matthew Wakeley. He was on the periphery of things, the same as his sister. Samantha hasn’t lived in the district for years. We’ll only get background information there, I reckon, and confirmation of facts the four of us gathered today. Right, is everybody ready?”

  “Yes, guv,” came the reply.

  “You can dig into the detail later. But a quick summary of what Lydia and I discovered was as follows. Gideon Wakeley disciplined Arthur and Ursula with a switch throughout their childhood. The inside of the bungalow has remained untouched since the murder, apart from the clean-up operation carried out by Jefferson’s crew. Every room in the bungalow, bar one, is a shrine to the Fifties. It’s spartan, utilitarian, call it what you wish, but it wasn’t a warm house no matter how big a fire they had in the living room. Don Hillier mentioned a footpath dispute that has rumbled on for twenty-odd years. A wealthy financier who thought he could make a fortune when house-building became a priority bought the field behind the bungalow where Gideon Wakeley worked and died. So far, the footpath has remained open. Ursula was vocal in her opposition to its removal. It surprised us to find that Ursula’s bedroom was a riot of colour. It was Nineties kitsch, I suppose, and as big a contrast to the rest of the home as you could get. Neil, what did you find out?”

  “Monica Butterworth showed us a steel ruler that Ursula threatened children with when she worked there between 1996 and 2010. There was no evidence to suggest she struck a child. Ursula was a stickler for behaviour in the library and adhering to the systems in place. Ursula wasn’t keen on noisy teenagers and feckless adults who used the library for a quiet, warm spot to wait before returning to the pub. There’s a separate room filled with computers for the public to use. Ursula spent time there according to Mrs Butterworth, and the older lady thought people unfairly judged Ursula. She found conversations with Ursula on literature stimulating. Ursula wasn’t miserable and rude all the time.”

  “The café manager told us that Ursula was a regular,” said Blessing. “Her daughter mentioned a teenage couple kissing outside the window. They were goading Ursula, looking for a reaction. Both women in the café thought Ursula was odd, with the comments she aimed at passers-by, but there was no actual harm in what she said. Many supermarket staff have left since 2013, but a man confirmed that Ursula was strict about when her shopping got delivered. She checked every item on her list to see it was as she had ordered.”

  “Did you come up with any potential suspects?” asked Gus.

  “No more than you did by the sound of it, guv,” said Neil. “I’d want to get hold of a list of those people with library cards around the time of the murder. We could get the Hub to tell us whether there were any offenders on the list. I’d check social media accounts to search for hate speech. That might be our quickest route to a pote
ntial suspect.”

  “We might have a problem with that,” said Gus, “on the other hand we’ve got the 2011 Census to fall back on. Mere is a small town. It would take us longer, but we could throw everyone into the mix to start with whether or not they had a library card.”

  “That’s an idea, and we wouldn’t upset Monica Butterworth then. I overheard you mention the visit to the Methodist minister, guv,” said Neil. “I reckon you should take Blessing with you. She could be a big help.”

  “I plan to spend time with each of you where practical,” said Gus, “the ACC might ask me for performance appraisals one day, and I’d hate to say I hadn’t seen you in action. Okay Blessing, you’re with me tomorrow. We won’t need to leave here until ten, so Neil can collect you from the farm.”

  “Do you need to call the Ferris’s, Blessing?” asked Luke, “I can’t run you home at five tonight if I’m waiting for that call from South Africa.”

  “I don’t mind waiting,” said Blessing, “I don’t have plans until later. My mother’s calling to hear how I’m settling in.”

  “No problem, Luke,” said Gus. “I’ll take Blessing home tonight.”

  “Why stick with the same schedule of interviews, guv,” asked Lydia, “after what we saw today?”

  “What would you change, Lydia?”

  “I can’t see what Jefferson or Kite can offer. They got it wrong. The robbery was to throw them off the scent, and they fell for it.”

  “So, you wouldn’t talk to them? What if Mel Jefferson tells Luke something that wasn’t in the murder file? It wouldn’t be the first time an officer under pressure forgot to log a sentence from a conversation or record a feeling that a witness was worth a second look. It shouldn’t happen, but it does. How about Ormrod and Dillon? Why bother asking them about the jewellery? It was irrelevant. Who’s to say the girl was one of the two people in the bungalow that night, anyway? The lad outside may have been her brother or a boyfriend. He might be the killer, and even five years after the event Ormrod or Dillon could remember something trivial that links to a detail we find when we’re trawling through those social media accounts. The devil is in the detail, Lydia. So, nothing gets ruled out until we’ve checked every eventuality.”