by Lou Peters
CHAPTER TWELVE
Friday Morning11 December 2009
After a hot shower and a shave Walters felt like he’d had his eight hours, even though he’d probably had only half of that amount of sleep. Still, he felt replenished and ready to take on the day. By seven thirty he was already seated at his desk, re-reading the bundle of statements from the day before. Checking to see if they’d missed anything first time around. If there were any pertinent questions the officers should’ve asked, but hadn’t. Walters left his seat to stand and look out of the window. Hands in pockets he gazed thoughtfully out into the darkness. The sun was not due to make its appearance for awhile yet. The man could see his own image in the surface of the glass, reflected from the glare of the fluorescent lighting overhead. His body appeared insubstantial as it merged with other items in the room, like an abstract painting. Out of the corner of his eye Walters became aware of bright flashes of orange in the darkness. A vehicle indicated its intention to exit the main road and turn into the lane, the only approach to the station. Walters continued watching the car’s progress. The headlight beams bounced erratically on the uneven route’s surface like spheres of burning gold. Lighting up the hedgerows either side of the lane, before becoming swallowed up by the blackness in the vehicles wake. It appeared to Walters as if the darkness left behind was giving chase to the vehicle. The occupant’s only hope of escape was for the sun to rise and banish the gloom. The car park, almost empty when he’d first arrived an hour ago, was now beginning to fill up. The Mondeo came to a halt and his burly sergeant got out. Walters went back to his seat, shelving his fanciful thoughts.
*
The warm smell of burning toast assailed his nostrils as Arnold entered the canteen, setting his stomach to rumble. He’d spied Marie Travis almost immediately upon his arrival, sitting alone in an out of the way corner. After receiving his plateful of rubbery scrambled eggs on soggy toast and an extra large mug of coffee from an unsmiling canteen assistant, he meandered over to join her.
Look at him, she thought, sauntering over as if he’s God’s gift. It was a good job the detective sergeant couldn’t read minds, because her next thoughts weren’t so polite.
‘Mind if I sit down?’
‘Would it make any difference, if I did?’ Marie replied caustically. She could have bitten off her own tongue. When would she learn to think before she spoke? If he wanted to, the DS could make life at the station very difficult for her. But on the other hand she didn’t want to schmoose up to him just because he was a member of the CID team. She didn’t know why this big buffoon irked her so much. Perhaps because he reminded her of someone she would rather forget. He was certainly the type, tall and muscular with blonde hair and big brown puppy dog eyes. She could go on, but stopped herself. Travis had no intention of making the same mistake twice. Next time, he’d be small and dark with blue eyes, perhaps a bit intellectual. The mental picture she was creating, suddenly acquired a pair of horn rimmed spectacles.
‘That’s not very friendly.’ Arnold responded sitting down, a feigned look of hurt on his open features. He made short work of his breakfast, quickly demolishing the four slices of laden toast. He wiped his hand across his mouth to remove any traces of egg, or crumbs. ‘Ah that’s better,’ Cooper relaxed against the sagging back of the plastic chair. He took a swig of the sweetened drink grasped in his large hand.
Travis thought he ate like a pig. But then all men were pigs. Perhaps she would turn lesbian. The thought amused her and a small smile touched her lips, knowing that was never going to happen. She liked heterosexual sex too much. Just next time, she’d ensure her heart stayed in one piece.
‘You’ve hardly touched your muesli.’ Cooper noted.
Immediately the image of writhing bodies she’d conjured in her head had been dispelled. She realised with chagrin, her small dark haired, bespectacled creation hadn’t featured in her fantasy. ‘I’m not that hungry. Anyway, I think the milks about to turn.’ She pushed the uneaten bowl of cereal to one side, concentrating on her cup of tea. ‘I can’t get the picture of the old lady out of my mind.’ She was unsure why she’d opened up to Cooper. Perhaps to make up for the hostility she’d shown when he’d sat down; or more probably to open up a dialogue between them on the murder case. After all, she’d been there, seen what he’d seen, enforcing the affinity between the two.
‘I’d forgotten you’d been present yesterday morning. Which reminds me Travis, what was that look you gave me as you were about to leave old man Headley’s place?’ Arnie asked, putting her on the spot. ‘Talk about, if looks could kill.’
Why doesn’t he go and lose himself, she said to herself, aloud, she uttered, ‘I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about, detective sergeant.’ Travis gave him a smile, half hearted she knew, but it would have to do. Marie busied herself re-stirring the remnants of her drink. Anything so she didn’t have to look at him. She knew exactly what Cooper was talking about, but she could hardly admit the condescending look he’d thrown her way had really riled her. Her friends were always telling her to calm down, to think before she jumped in with both feet. They blamed her feisty temperament on her red hair. She could lose it with them as well. What had hair colour to do with anything?
Cooper thought perhaps he’d misread her reaction yesterday. More, because he fancied her and didn’t want to get on the wrong side of Marie further by pressing the point home, he continued, ‘wasn’t a pretty sight, but you mustn’t let it get you down.’ His face was serious, but his eyes were kind. He placed his hand on the table between them wondering if he should slide it along a bit, reach out and place it over her hand, in a gesture of reassurance. However, Travis must have been aware of the detective sergeant’s intention, because she quickly withdrew her hand and rested it on her knee under the table.
‘It wasn’t the injuries the old dear had sustained. The sight of blood doesn’t bother me in the least. I would hardly have joined the force, if it did.’ Her irrational irritation with the man rose to the surface again. Why did she feel like she had to justify herself to him? ‘I’ve seen far worse things than that, at the scene of road traffic incidents. No, it’s the deliberate act of violence which gets me. What one human being can inflict upon another. What right has anyone got to end another person’s life?’
‘I totally agree with you. Let’s hope it was just an isolated incident.’
‘Why?’ Marie leaned across the table towards him. Cooper caught a waft of her scent, which unlike Grimes’, was floral and understated. ‘You don’t think it could happen again, a serial killer on the loose, battering old ladies to death?’ She’d curled her hair behind one ear to reveal a single gold stud. Her neck was slender, smooth and white. Her jaw line well defined, ending in a cute, dimpled pointy chin.
For a moment Cooper could imagine placing his mouth against the whiteness of her skin. An image he had to dispel quickly, as he could feel himself becoming aroused and thanked God the table was there to conceal his embarrassment. He crossed his legs, wishing the damn thing would behave itself. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression. We have no reason to believe it was anything but a one off... I’m glad I’ve bumped into you, though,’ he said brightening. ‘It saves me the job of having to search you out later.’
Travis looked cautious, she hoped he wasn’t going to ask her out, because she would have to refuse if he did, and she didn’t want to be placed in that position.
‘Should’ve had a word with you yesterday really, but with everything that was going on didn’t get a chance. By the time I’d caught up with you, you were ready to head off.
She wished he’d just get on with it. Then she could make her excuses and leave.
‘We think, from what we can gather from Rowena Harrison, Mrs. Montgomery had a fall when she’d visited the outdoor market on Tuesday. It’s likely at that time she’d seen someone from her past, recent, or otherwise, whom she’d recognised. Whether tha
t had caused the old lady to stumble and lose her balance, or whether she was pushed by that person we don’t know. But Walters would like you to get down there and make some enquires.’
‘You’re joking detective sergeant? For one thing, the open air market is only there on a Tuesday and for another, I was there on said day and the place was absolutely heaving. To find someone who actually saw that particular old lady trip over in the throngs of people who were there, well... It’ll be like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.’
‘Nevertheless Travis that’s your assignment and you’re to report directly back to Detective Inspector Walters on this one. That should keep you out of mischief for the rest of the morning.’ He smiled at her in the hope she would reciprocate, but he must be losing his touch, for all he received in return was a cold stare. He couldn’t fathom what he had to do just for her to be pleasant to him. She obviously couldn’t stand the sight of him, but in a weird way that made him all the keener. Cooper had only to look at her body language to know she was like a hare on a racetrack, couldn’t wait to be off and running.
Marie felt like telling him to piss off, if only to wipe that supercilious look from his face, but she was too much of a lady and besides he was a detective sergeant and she a mere constable. She supposed she could enquire of the permanent traders, whose premises formed a large three sided square surrounding the open patch of ground used for the outdoor market. If the incident had occurred on the periphery, there was a remote chance somebody may have seen something from out of one of the glass fronted buildings. That was going to be her best bet, her only bet, but it was still a hell of a long shot.
‘What was going on in reception last night as Walters and I came in?’ Arnie asked, abruptly changing the subject. He stashed away his smile for the moment to use on someone who would appreciate it.
The policewoman rested her cup down on its saucer. ‘Oh, just some girl who had mislaid her so called boyfriend.’
‘Why, so called?’ Arnold looked at her enquiringly.
‘Because he was nearly old enough to be her dad, maybe that’s an over exaggeration,’ Marie revised her comment. But I always think there’s something unnatural when there’s a big difference in age like that. Normally loads of money being the major factor. Although, it didn’t seem like that in this case. Apparently he’s a landscape gardener and the couple have recently moved into River Cottage. Nobody’s lived in that place for years. I’m surprised it hasn’t been condemned before now. Unless of course, the plan is to knock it down and start again. In which case, he may have a substantial wedge of cash in the bank.’
‘River Cottage, I don’t think I know it.’
‘You will. You pass near to it every time you come into Rasburgh from the direction of Ranleigh. You can see the chimneys, especially this time of the year when the trees are bare. It stands more or less on the bend of the river. The cottage is elevated and set completely on its own, about a mile from the actual village although the area is still classed as Rasburgh. You can get to Servham that way if you take the left turn at the crossroads as you normally would, but instead of following the lane all the way, take the first left off and you’d pass directly in front of the cottage. As I’m sure you’re already aware, although it’s a bit of a shortcut, the lane is very narrow and you could bugger up your suspension on the potholed surface, if you’re not careful.’
‘Yeah, I know where you mean now. Didn’t know the name of the place, but it’s obvious when you think about it. Quite an isolated spot though. The girl looked in a bit of a bad way, has her boyfriend been missing long?’
‘No, that’s the thing, only since yesterday morning. I don’t know, some women. I very nearly didn’t take down the details as he’d only been gone such a short time, but I thought what the hell. I bet they’ve had a row, only she won’t admit to it. Probably turn up in a day or two after he’s made her suffer for long enough. Or maybe, he’s found someone nearer his own age.’
‘That’s a very cynical attitude you’ve got there Constable Travis.’
‘That’s what comes of being a policewoman, detective sergeant. Anyway,’ she said rising from her chair. ‘I’d love to stay and chat all day.’ She smiled, but he knew she didn’t mean it, he could read it in her green flecked eyes. ‘But I suppose I’d better check the control room, see if we’ve had any new reports in from traffic, or any of the hospitals that may be a possible match for the mis-per, before I go on my fool’s errand into town.’
‘You’d better not let Walters hear you talking like that.’
She wasn’t sure if the man was being serious, or not, but guessed by the look on his face that he was. Perhaps she should be a little more succinct in her disapproval of the task she’d been set. She didn’t want it getting back to the detective inspector she’d questioned his authority and ruin any future chance she may have of one day joining the CID team. Marie’s main ambition was to get out of uniform as quickly as possible. ‘Sorry DS Cooper, I’ll do my best,’ she murmured, with what she hoped was suitable contrition. She smoothed down her skirt to banish the creases formed by sitting down for too long. Leaving Cooper to sit and admire her trim figure and slender legs beneath the fabric of her uniform, his imagination again running away with him.
‘I don’t doubt you will.’ With a supreme effort Cooper forced his gaze away from her perfect proportions as a sudden thought popped into his head. ‘Sit down again Travis, will you?’
For a moment Marie thought she was off the hook, had made the moves to enable her escape from the canteen and hopefully wouldn’t see the guy for the rest of her shift. She was racking her brain for an excuse not to do as he’d asked, but there was something in the DS’s eyes and manner that encouraged her to slowly resume her seat.
*
‘Ah Cooper, I wondered when you would finally make an appearance. I saw you arrive three quarters of an hour ago.’
‘I’ve been working on a hunch I’ve had sir.’ Cooper said sitting down.
‘Via the canteen, I suspect. What’s that you’ve got there?’ Walters referred to the sheet of paper the detective sergeant was clutching in his hand. He could see the man was bursting to tell him something and hoped it was something worth hearing. Going over the statements, despite Walter’s new found optimism, until they had a positive identification of the mystery man, they were getting nowhere. Perhaps the photo fit description once constructed and circulated, would bear some results. Bradley Purvis, poor sod, was due into the station that morning as soon as he’d dropped the twins off at school. He’d agreed to offer his assistance with the facial reconstruction.
‘Do you remember those women who were leaving reception last night, as we were coming in?’
‘Of course I do Cooper. I’m not going senile just yet. What of it?’
‘They were here to report a missing person, and guess what, sir?’ Walters was in no mood for guessing games, which was just as well, for DS Cooper didn’t wait for Walters’ response. ‘The missing man is a dead ringer for Mrs. Montgomery’s mystery caller. And get this...’
Walters raised an arched eyebrow.
‘It turns out he was probably wearing a black leather jacket and a yellow and black scarf when he went disappeared.’
‘You’re joking?’ Walters took the printout Cooper offered him, his grin threatening to outdo that of his sergeant’s. ‘Bloody hell Cooper, well done... Richard Johnson, River Cottage.’ ‘I never thought they’d have a hope of getting a buyer for that old place.’
‘You know it then, sir?’
‘Yes, it’s been empty for as long as I can remember. Quite a decent plot of land with it, as I recall; but never mind that, we need to get over to the place quick style, Cooper. Bugger the photo fit, with any luck we’ll have a photograph in our hand before the mornings out.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Friday Morning 19 July 1996
‘Hello Angela,’ Ruth Montgomery called out cheerily to the young girl across the s
treet. Reaching down to snatch the bottle of milk off the doorstep, she could feel the pull on her back and straightened up more slowly. At sixty two Ruth had kept her trim figure, although of late, she had noticed the rounding of her tummy, her skirts becoming more difficult to fasten. She would have to do something about that. Perhaps give up the shortbread biscuits with her mid morning cup of tea.
‘Hi Mrs. Montgomery,’ the little girl replied, just as brightly. She rested her red cycle against the privet hedge running alongside the semi detached house and crossed over the road, to speak to her neighbour.
‘On your holidays now?’
‘Yes, we broke up yesterday. No more school for six whole weeks,’ Angela beamed.
‘You won’t know what to do with yourself.’ Ruth said, clutching the pint of milk to her chest. As if the bottle was a baby and she was fearful of dropping it. ‘You’ll be bored by the end of the week and be desperate to get back to your lessons.’
‘Oh I don’t think so, Mrs. Montgomery. Dad’s promised to take us camping to France next week, my friend Mary is going to come with us. I can’t wait.’ Her blue eyes sparkled in anticipation. ‘It’ll be the first time I’ve been abroad. Dad’s going to give me some French francs to put in the purse you bought me for my birthday.’
Ruth remembered the purchase, shaped like a cat’s head and made of leather, with yellow eyes and pointy ears. ‘That’s nice, Angela.’ A frown briefly crossed Ruth’s face. She didn’t much care for Mary McIntyre, or the rest of her family who had recently come to live in the long row of council houses in nearby Faulkner Street. Perhaps she was being a snob, but there was no disputing it, the McIntyre girl was surly and wore a continual scowl, young as she was. Or maybe it was the fact that Ruth objected to the open landscape being bastardised by the erection of the breeze block buildings, three or four years previously. Angela Hastings on the other hand, was a lovely girl. Ten years old and as bright and shiny as a newly minted coin.
