by M A Comley
“What the sodding hell are you talking about, woman?”
“I think it does. Here’s what I’m thinking: your husband, along with five other men found on a list, were part of a paedophile ring. My hunch is you found out about your husband’s exploits and that’s why you’re not upset about his death. Good riddance to bad rubbish and all that. Am I right, Mrs Barton?”
The woman’s mouth hung open for a little while until she took a long drag on her cigarette, then she flopped into the chair behind her.
“Smart arse. Yes, you’re right. He confessed to me last week. Told me he’d been to the doctor’s and was diagnosed with liver cancer. He wanted to go to Heaven with a clear conscience—they were his words, not mine. I beat him black and blue. I was sickened by what he told me. He said he regretted his actions and if he could take back what he’d done he would, in a heartbeat. I’m glad he’s dead. Does that make me a bad person?”
“Not in my eyes. Did he tell you the ins and outs of what went on?”
“I put my hands over my ears when he started to tell me, I didn’t want to know. It was as if he was treating it like a confessional in the bloody church. I couldn’t give a toss. That’s what this trip was all about, him getting out of my hair for a few days. I hate him. Can’t stand the thought of him abusing children. I lived with that man for fifteen years and didn’t know him at all. It sickens me that he slept with minors and then came home to share my bed.” She gagged a little. “See, all I’ve wanted to do since he told me is bloody vomit. What is wrong with these frigging men? They’re depraved; they have to be, don’t they?”
Lorne and Katy sat in the two easy chairs available.
Although Lorne’s suspicions about the men had been right, it was still a tough pill to swallow. “Can I ask why you didn’t report your husband to the police, if, like you say, it upset you so much?”
“I’ve been toying with the idea. I was in a difficult situation with him being ill, surely you can understand that?” She puffed on her cigarette.
“Okay. Look, these past few days, do you think anything along the lines he told you about could have gone on up in Cumbria?”
Mrs Barton stared at Lorne. “Do you? Is that why someone killed him? Hang on a minute, he was with Wayne up there, wasn’t he? Or was that a lie, too?”
“It is our understanding that the two men were together in Cumbria. Actually, they were both found murdered.”
“Oh crap. Does his wife know?”
“Yes, we’ve just come from there. She asked me to pass on her condolences. She knows about the murders, but I didn’t pick up that she knew about anything else. She was shocked that her husband had been killed, unlike you.”
“Poor cow. Christ knows how she’s going to frigging feel when it comes out in the press. It’s going to, isn’t it? These things always do.”
“It’s likely, yes. Did your husband take his car to Cumbria?” She knew the answer; she was testing the woman now.
“Yes, why?”
“Did Wayne take his car as well?”
“No, his car is sitting in our garage. I don’t understand why you’re asking that.”
“Well, when I spoke to Wayne a few days ago, he was en route to Cumbria at the time, he specifically told me that he was driving.”
“Maybe they took it in turns to drive.”
“Maybe, not that it matters, it just seemed odd that he should lie. Perhaps you’re right. We’ll gloss over that for now. Going back to your husband’s confession, did he tell you where these ‘acts’ took place?”
“He tried, but I told him I’d knife him if he said any more. I can’t explain how much I hated him at that moment. When you think you know someone…when you’ve invested so much time into a relationship that proves to be worthless…” She held her head in her hands and shook it. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get over this. I feel as abused as those kids. Is it so wrong to say that? Our whole marriage has been a sham. Look at me! Am I likely to find anyone else to care for me at my time of life…shit, would I even want someone after what that fucker did? Sorry, I’ve turned this into being about me. I didn’t mean to do that.”
Lorne smiled. “I completely understand where you’re coming from. If it’s any consolation, you still have this place. I take it he was insured?”
“Who the hell frigging knows. If I go digging through his paperwork—he took care of that side of things, you see—Jesus, what bloody horrors am I going to find?”
“Would you like us to go through the paperwork with you?”
“No. I’ll hand it over to my solicitor. I suppose I should ask you what’s happening about his murder, not that I really give a toss.”
“It’s still an ongoing investigation. We have another couple of names we have to make contact with on the list. Maybe they’ll be able to hint at who they think the perpetrator is. Do you need us to call anyone to be with you?”
“No. I’m fine on my own. I’d rather not drag my family into this shit. I’m sorry for being so offhand with you, my head’s been all over the place since I found out.”
“No need to apologise. I will have to ask you to formally ID your husband when his body is transferred. It’ll probably be a few days yet.”
“God, do I have to? Can’t you do it from a photo?”
“Maybe. I’ll have a word with the pathologist. Perhaps she’ll agree to do it from his medical or dental records if that will help.”
“If you wouldn’t mind. I’d like to wash my hands of him. His family can foot the expense of a burial; I’m not interested in the bastard any more.”
“That’s your prerogative. We’ll get on then. Thanks for sharing the information with us. I realise how painful that was for you.”
She walked with them to the front door. “What about the other bastard’s car?”
“We’ll get someone to collect it tomorrow, if that’s okay?”
“Sure.”
They left the house and returned to the car.
Katy leaned back against the headrest. “Wow, that was quite a switch in character if ever I saw one.”
“Yep. One thing is puzzling me: why she was so offensive last time towards us and yet this time…”
“Yeah, I thought the same. Maybe she’s had time to reconsider her actions.”
“Or the relief of being told he’d been murdered helped to make up her mind.”
“Possibly. Either way, she’s well rid of him by the sounds of it.”
“I agree. Let’s see if the Frosts are back now.”
Lorne had just started the engine when her mobile rang. “DI Lorne Warner. How can I help?”
“Hello, dear. This is Gladys Lewis speaking, the Frosts’ neighbour. You asked me to ring you when they returned, do you remember?”
“I do indeed, Mrs Lewis. I take it they’re back now?”
“They are, dear. Just thought I’d give you a little tinkle to let you know.”
“That’s very kind. We’re on our way now. Thank you for the call.”
“You’re most welcome. Goodbye, dear.”
“Goodbye, Mrs. Lewis.” Lorne pressed the End Call button and smiled at Katy. “Fortune always favours the brave, or something like that.”
They both laughed, relieving the tension a little.
Arriving at the terraced house belonging to the Frosts, Lorne spotted the back of a female entering the front door of the property.
“She must be still unloading the car. Mrs Lewis was really quick to ring us.”
“Looks that way. Do you want to sit here for a second longer?”
“Nope. Let’s get this over with.”
They made their way up the cracked path in the dingy, overgrown front garden, and Lorne used the cuff of her jacket to ring the bell for the second time that week. The young woman whom they’d seen entering the house opened the door. Lorne met her gaze. She appeared startled.
Lorne smiled warmly. “Miss Frost, we’re DI Warner and DS Foster from the M
et Police. May we come in and speak to your father?”
The woman nodded and stood behind the door, allowing them access to the hallway. The inside of the house was as shoddy as the outside. Drab wallpaper peeling at the edges lined the walls in the hallway. The young woman, still without saying a word, led them into the lounge. Sitting in a worn easy chair was a man in his late fifties to early sixties, reading a newspaper. He glanced up and jumped to his feet when he saw them enter the room. He glared at the female, as if to question why she had let them in. Lorne watched the exchange with interest as another female, this one younger, joined them.
“Who are you?” Mr Frost demanded.
Lorne held up her warrant card. He peered over the top of his glasses to read it. “DI Lorne Warner. We’d like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind, Mr Frost. Take a seat. Girls, would you take a seat also, please?”
Mr Frost shuffled back to his chair, and his daughters sat on the sofa on the other side of the room, their thighs and arms touching.
“What’s this intrusion about?” he asked.
“Maybe you can start by telling us where you’ve been the last few days, Mr Frost.”
“Up to the Lakes. Why?” His brow wrinkled when he replied.
“Just the three of you?”
“Yes, a family break. I’m sorry, what does this have to do with you?”
“Did anyone go with you?”
“Just the three of us—well, a couple of friends stayed in a separate cabin, and we met up with each other a few times to share the odd meal and a drink. You know how it is when you’re on holiday.”
“Did you have a good time?” Lorne directed her question at the two daughters.
“Yes, thank you. It was a nice rest,” the girl who’d let them in replied.
“Good. What about you?” Lorne asked the other girl.
Her gaze drifted over to her father.
He gestured with his hand for her to hurry up.
“Yes, it was a beautiful area.”
“These friends you mentioned, could you tell me their names, sir?”
“I don’t understand. Why should I? Have we broken a law or something?”
“Not as far as I know. Their names, Mr Frost?”
“Wayne and Don, can’t remember their surnames.”
“Girls, do you know their full names?” Again, Lorne watched the interaction between the father and his daughters, and something didn’t sit right with her.
“No. Sorry, we don’t,” the older one said after they’d briefly conferred.
“Ah, I see. Good friends, but you don’t remember their names.”
“Meaning what?” Frost snapped.
“Nothing, just stating facts, sir. Perhaps you can tell me how long you’ve known these men, or would your bad memory have a problem with that?”
“What are you getting at? Of course I remember. Over twenty years.”
“I see. Did you set off together this morning, or did Wayne and Don leave their cabin after you?”
“Actually, they left before. What’s this all about? Why are you asking about my mates?”
“And they seemed okay when they left?”
“Yes. Looking forward to going home to see their wives.”
“I see. Both of them?”
“Yes,” Frost said, his irritation growing.
“Only we heard some disturbing news from one of the wives this afternoon.”
“About what?”
“Something we need to investigate further before we’re willing to share it publicly. So, Wayne and Don set off before you this morning. Did you catch up with them on the road at a service station or something?”
“No. What kind of question is that? Is it likely, given they set off a good half an hour before us?”
“Ah, that makes sense.”
“Look, are you going to be long? We’ve had a heck of a trip, and the girls are keen to get on with dinner.”
“Sorry, not long now. I wanted to know something specific before we leave. Do you know a Denis Tallon and a Larry Small?”
“Yes, as it happens, they’re good buddies of mine. Why?”
“We’re conducting an investigation into their murders.”
Frost flung his newspaper off the side of his chair and got to his feet. “What? Both of them? That’s incredible. How?”
“We’re not prepared to go into detail just now. As a close friend of theirs, we wondered if you knew of anyone who might have had a grudge against these two men.”
“No. Not at all. They were decent chaps. The girls will tell you, won’t you, girls?”
The girls glanced at each other briefly and then back at Lorne.
“Yes, both nice,” the older one confirmed, a little grudgingly to Lorne’s ear.
“The truth is, we’re looking for a possible motive for the murders. Do you have an idea why someone would want both those men dead, Mr Frost?”
“What am I, the bloody Oracle? I haven’t got a damn clue.”
“Okay, we’ll leave it there then. Here’s my card if ever you need to talk to me about anything that’s troubling you, or if you can think of a reason why someone would want to kill your friends, all four of them. Ring me day or night, I’m always available.” She watched his eyes narrow when she mentioned the four friends’ deaths but decided to leave it there, for now. Lorne handed all three of them a card and smiled at Katy. “We have work to do, partner, back at the station. Let’s leave these nice people to get settled after their arduous trip.”
Katy nodded and walked into the hallway.
“It was nice meeting you all. Sorry it was under difficult circumstances.” Lorne followed Katy out of the room then the front door.
They left the garden, and before Lorne could get in the car, Mr Frost erupted inside the house.
“Whoa! Are you just going to walk away and let him get away with that, Lorne?” Katy demanded, staring back at the house.
“We have no reason to interfere, Katy. Get in the car. We need to get back to base and do some digging.”
Katy had a disappointed expression on her face when she turned to look at her. “You’re the boss.”
“For now,” Lorne replied and slid behind the steering wheel.
Chapter 12
As soon as the policewomen left the house, Claire was set upon by her father, his stride full of menacing intent as he stormed across the floor towards her and her sister. Kathryn was trembling so hard beside her that her teeth chattered.
“You,” her father bellowed. “I know you did this somehow.”
“I didn’t, Father, you never let us out of the house. How could either of us do it?”
“I don’t know, but I know you’re behind their deaths. All of them. How could you?”
She shook her head, avoiding eye contact with him, which was difficult when his face was only a few inches from her own. She swallowed down the acid taste filling her mouth and squeezed Kathryn’s hand tightly.
Her father tore away from them and paced the living room carpet, running a hand through his hair and simultaneously growling, his anger clearly mounting.
“I’ll make us a cup of coffee, you’ve had a shock,” Claire said, her voice hushed so as not to anger him even more.
Her father lashed out, yelling profanities at the pair of them. His fist connected with Claire’s jaw. The blow was so violent that her head smacked into her sister’s.
Her father smiled, pleased with his actions. “Two birds with one stone.” He sniggered and fell into his chair. “Fetch me a glass and the bottle of whisky. I want to raise a toast to my dearly departed friends.”
Claire placed a hand to her jaw, wiggled it from side to side to ensure nothing was broken and ran into the kitchen. She didn’t want to be too long for Kathryn’s sake. She collected a glass and the alcohol her father had requested and dashed back to the lounge.
Her father snatched the items from her hand. “Now, what’s for dinner? I’m starving.”
“I thought I’d make cottage pie, if that’s all right, Father?” Claire mumbled.
“Whatever. Get it done and be quick about it. This will suffice for now.”
“Kathryn, can you help me prepare the vegetables?”
Her sister shot out of her chair, eager to join her.
When they were both safely tucked away in the kitchen, Kathryn crumpled into a chair and placed her head on her arm on the table.
Claire ran a soothing hand over her head. “We can do this. Ignore him. I know how difficult that is at times. I have your back.”
Kathryn glanced up at her. “We need to get out of here, Claire. Those policewomen will be back. I’m sure they know.”
“They won’t. You’re reading things into it, love.”
Kathryn’s head swished from side to side. “I don’t think so. The main one, she had a glint in her eye. I think she’s more intelligent than she looked.”
“I think you’re wrong. They barely asked any questions. If they’d suspected anything, they would have insisted on us joining them at the station to be interviewed. Enough of this. We need to get on with dinner before he starts on the warpath. Are you all right?”
“No. I’m a quivering wreck. I can’t cope with this situation any longer. We need to get away, Claire, soon.”
Claire tapped her temple. “I have it all sussed out. I need to get my timings right, love. Bear with me a little while longer.”
“I fear we’re running out of time. Those coppers will be back soon, mark my words on that one.”
“We’ll see. Now, what do you fancy, cauliflower and peas or carrots and peas?”
“I don’t give a shit. I doubt he’s going to allow us to eat anything anyway, not now we’re back here. It was different while we were away, in front of those men. He let us eat normally to make him look good. That man commented on how thin we both were. I told him our metabolism was messed up and that we ate a lot and never gained weight.”
Claire touched her sister’s face. “See, good girl, we have to keep up the pretence. People wouldn’t believe what we’ve had to contend with over the years.”
