Angela's Dead

by Lou Peters

  Walters was dumbstruck and so glad he’d been bothered to leave his office and see the guy. ‘I’m really grateful to you for this Mr. Ridgway. As you can appreciate, we need to move quickly now, if we’re going to have a chance to apprehend Mr. Johnson. He may have already moved on... Did the man have any idea that you were taking his photograph?’

  ‘Don’t think so. It was a spur of the moment thing. The bloke was just across the road and I snapped him. I’d be surprised if he was even aware of my presence.’

  ‘That’s great. I’d be grateful if you could leave your contact details at the reception desk, in case we need to speak to you again. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this… Oh and if you wouldn’t mind keeping the information to yourself for the time being. I’d hate for the press, or anybody else to beat us to it, and scare him off.’

  ‘No problem detective inspector.’ The man grinned; pleased he’d been able to play such an important part in the investigation.

  Walters stood up and the young man mirrored his action. He took Ridgway’s hand in both of his and shook it warmly. ‘We’re in your debt Mr. Ridgway.’

  Passing the incident room after Ridgway had left the station Walters glanced through the square of glass at the level with his eye. Saw Cooper slouching against his desk, arms folded in a relaxed pose, laughing at some remark one of the uniforms had made. The inspector rapped on the window, gaining the sergeant’s immediate attention. He motioned with his hand for the man to join him in his office, as soon as.

  ‘I’ve been looking for you sir.’

  ‘I could see that, when I saw you in the incident room. Pretty isn’t she?’

  ‘Who is sir?’

  ‘That young constable you were flirting with, what’s her name Yvonne.’

  ‘Yvette and I wasn’t flirting.’

  Walters flashed Cooper a look to say he didn’t believe him. ‘What was it you wanted to see me about, before I give you my news?’

  ‘Just that I phoned the bank where Jackie Riley allegedly worked and it turns out the woman is no longer employed by the company. Walked out about a month ago, coinciding with the date Smith and Johnson moved here.’

  ‘That is interesting, but at the moment I’m not sure why. Get Mellors, or Travis to check out local B and B’s and rental properties in the area, see if anyone fitting Riley’s description has checked in over the last month.’

  ‘You think Rachel Smith’s friend has been spying on her?’

  ‘I don’t know what I think Cooper, probably not. Can’t come up with any reason why she should. But now the thought’s there, we may as well act on it.’

  ‘Your call, sir.’

  ‘Yes, it is my call Detective Sergeant Cooper and you and I have got bigger fish to fry, so get your swimsuit out of moth balls, we’re off to the seaside.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  Early Monday Morning 14 December 2009

  Rachel woke up groggy, the after affects of having taken a sleeping pill the previous evening. After her return to River Cottage in the late afternoon, Rachel had been unable to settle. Dusk had fallen, soon replaced by impenetrable night. Staring out into the darkness she’d felt edgy and ill at ease. Hardly surprising, considering the alarming discovery she’d made at the scene of the old lady’s murder. The police had told her someone had witnessed Richard entering the dead woman’s house. Physical proof of his presence should, therefore, not have been that shocking. However, it was where Rachel had found the evidence that’d disturbed her as much as anything. Why would Richard have been in the alleyway, unless he hadn’t wanted to be seen? Rachel had soon realised she was never going to get any sleep, without a little help. She’d taken one of the tablets from out of the bathroom cabinet an hour before she’d planned to go to bed and crumbled it into a cup of hot chocolate. Jackie had phoned as she said she would, to advise her safe arrival in Chester. Her friend hadn’t stayed on the phone long, citing tiredness the reason for the short call. Replacing the receiver, on an impulse Rachel had again picked up the phone and dialled her mother’s number. The call had remained unanswered. She’d thought it strange her mum hadn’t been home at such a late hour. Even more bizarre, that she hadn’t phoned her daughter over the past few days. Normally, her mother had a sixth sense about things, calling Rachel for the least reason. At the moment Rachel had more pressing things to worry about. Even so, something had niggled inside of her. Lying in bed, the feeling that something wasn’t quite right persisted. ‘Of course something’s not quite right,’ she’d told herself, on the verge of drifting to sleep. ‘Your lover is either a murderer, or dead, what could be worse than that?’

  Rachel’s mouth was dry and tasted horrible. Her tongue felt thick and furry. However, as she lay in the bed a strange elation washed over her. Rachel closed her eyes. She snuggled against the duvet, pulled it tighter beneath her chin, trying to combat the iciness of the room. When she opened her eyes again, the bubbling, embryonic feeling was still there. Blossoming into something more, like a small hot spot spreading inside of her, radiating warmth and well being. Not yet understanding the cause of her elation Rachel remained inert. Slowly, the dream returned to her. Inconsequential filmy strands of recollection melded together, until they’d solidified into a complete thought. Rising up from the murky depths of her drug laced lethargy, the sudden realisation hit her in a brilliant flash of comprehension, engorging her with hope and certainty. For at that moment, Rachel was convinced Richard was alive... Just as certain, she knew where he could be found.

  At seven o’clock it remained dark outside. The kitchen held the remnants of heat from the previous evening. She hummed to herself as she put the kettle on to boil, popped slices of bread into the toaster. Rachel had at least an hour to kill before it would be light enough for her to start out on her journey. After she’d nibbled a little on the jam smeared toast, the caffeine in circulation, hopefully banishing the remaining wisps of fog from her mind. She bathed quickly and once dressed, placed a few items of clothing into an overnight bag. Should she pack some of Richard’s things? It seemed a sensible option. She presumed he would still be wearing the clothes he’d left the cottage in. Rachel discarded the bag, opting for Richard’s larger rucksack. She crammed in as much stuff as she could. Not knowing how much he would need, or how long he intended to remain concealed. That was if she even managed to find him. Instantly she sidelined the negative thought. Positivity was the key.

  Temperatures again in the minus, Rachel scurried to the garage. Her movements slowed by the additional weight of the sack slung over her shoulder. Looking upwards the moon was a mere ghost, her breath transparent, a frozen cloud in front of her. A cigarette stub casually discarded on the frost coated grass caught Rachel’s attention. Begging the question could somebody have actually been out in the garden the previous night? Out of sight, concealed behind the shrubbery, watching her and not just her imagination with the potency to scare and unsettle? This time she’d blamed the sensation of being monitored through the bare kitchen windows, on the men’s conversation she’d overheard in the Bluebell, and prayed she hadn’t been followed. She’d given herself a stiff talking too, but the fear had remained. Now Rachel shrugged off the feeling, as one shrugs off a damp overcoat after coming in from the rain. Not wanting anything to spoil her new found optimism.

  Rachel wasn’t the best driver in the world. She’d be the first to admit. It didn’t help that once she climbed into the car her breath soon steamed up the windows. At least they weren’t frozen, thanks to the wad of newspapers she’d stuffed under the car’s front and rear wipers, a couple of days previously. After disposing of the stiffened newsprint and confirming the road atlas was on the back seat, she reversed the Peugeot out of the garage, negotiating the tight turn onto the driveway. With a generous dose of good luck, Rachel managed to avoid a collision with the cottage wall. As usual, there was not a soul about as she left the narrow lane and joined the larger road, en route to Boynton, final destination Cadgwith Cov
e. Rachel had a general idea in which direction she should be heading, intending to stop the other side of town to reaffirm the route in consultation with the map. With the heater full on the car was beginning to warm up, clearing the windscreen of condensation. The sky was darkening into a deeper shade of blue and with the radio playing an upbeat song her spirit soared, like the buzzard she could see turning loops in the cold winter air, searching for a scrap on the hard, frosted ground below.

  The needle on the petrol gauge was hovering around the empty mark, although the warning light had yet to come on. No sooner had this thought entered her head, when a bleep from the dashboard notified the light had been activated. ‘Sod’s Law,’ she muttered crossly. Luckily ahead in the near distance, a garage forecourt loomed. She signalled her intention to the solitary driver travelling behind, to warn of her imminent reduction in speed. Car filled to splash back point. Bottled water, sandwiches and bag of assorted mints purchased, Rachel set off feeling as if she was more prepared for the trip.

  Finally, joining the slip road onto the “M5”, she was making some progress at last. Not adhering in the least to the speed limit signs, her nippy little car like a black bullet, clocked up the miles. Rachel was aware she’d still got a hell of a long way to go. Once she hit the “A” and “B” roads she knew she’d have to temper her speed, inevitably prolonging the journey. She’d already experienced hold ups on the outskirts of Bath. Having to contend with rush hour traffic, on roads she was unfamiliar with. This had for a time put a dent in her good mood. Needing to concentrate on where she was going she’d been forced to switch off the radio. Struggling to read the road signs, the directions always seeming to appear too late, had resulted in her having to change lanes at the last minute, hoping some kind soul would allow her room to make the necessary manoeuvre. Rachel always raised her hand in thanks on these occasions, more often than not receiving a blank stare from the driver behind her for her gesture. No-one it appeared had time for Monday morning pleasantries. The commuters’ only intentions focused on getting through the rush hour traffic, to make it into the office on time.

  She’d tried to ring Jack at work using her direct line number, thus avoiding chatty Kathy, the switchboard operator. The woman, remembering Rachel from her time working at the company, would keep her talking for ages. Wanting to know how Richard was, what Rachel was up to these days, how the move had gone and one hundred and one other things. Rachel had left it until after nine thirty, to give her friend time to get to her desk, before she’d pulled off the road to make the call. It’d been a wasted effort. Unable to make the connection, a recorded message had announced the extension number as no longer available. Jackie was certainly having problems with her phones. First her home number and now work. In the end she’d opted to send Jackie a text. Unsure if the message had been sent, as the signal strength kept dipping in and out.

  White clouds bubbled up out of the blue, the further west Rachel travelled. The formations created amazing sculptures in the sky. The flat horizon transformed into imaginary mountain ranges along its length. Rachel’s mobile flashed into life. She could tell by the snatch of electronic music, that it was Jackie calling. Despite the fact she was driving and with no possibility of pulling off the road this time, she grabbed for the phone she’d let slip into the side pocket and answered the call.

  ‘Rachel where the hell are you?’ Jackie’s voice was exaggerated melodrama.

  Her unexpected tone had caught Rachel off guard. However, she wasn’t going to let it ruffle her. ‘Hi Jack, I tried to call you at work earlier… Can’t really talk now, I’m driving.’ Her friend tried to interrupt, but Rachel continued with what she wanted to say to her. ‘It came to me last night in a dream. I think I know where Richard could be.’ Saying it aloud, she realised how stupid it sounded. But she was convinced that that was where Richard was.

  ‘What are you talking about? In a dream, have you gone crazy? Where are you for God’s sake? Where are you heading?’ There was urgency to her questions Rachel couldn’t fathom.

  ‘Cadgwith Cove, it’s in Cornwall. Richard and I stayed there for a few days during the summer. I’ve a strong feeling that that’s where I’ll find him. Think he’s probably hiding out in an old ramshackled cottage we’d used to walk past on our way to the local inn.’

  ‘Rachel, you can’t go there on your own. Do the police know?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘And what if you’re wrong, going all that way for nothing? Turn back Rache, before you go too far.’

  ‘After I’ve come this far, I don’t think so.’

  ‘Jesus Rache... then wait for me at least. I’ll come with you.’

  ‘No Jack. I can’t wait around for you to get down here from Chester. You’ll be hours.’

  ‘I’m ... not ...not in Chester.’

  ‘What, where the hell are you then?’

  ‘I’m in Rasburgh.’

  ‘At River Cottage?’ Rachel was totally confused.

  ‘Ahm ... yes.... that’s right I’m at your place.’

  ‘You don’t sound very sure. What on earth are you doing there? You’re supposed to be at work.’

  ‘I... didn’t like leaving you.’

  ‘Look Jack, there’s loads of things I’d like to ask you? Like why the hell you drove all the way to Chester just to drive back again? But I’ll have to leave your explanation ‘till another time. I’ve been driving for a couple of hours already and want to get to Cadgwith as soon as possible, so I’m not going to hang around, sorry. I know you mean well, but I’ve got nothing to fear from Richard. That’s if he’s even there. I’ll have to go. Speak to you later, bye.’ Rachel quickly disconnected. She switched off her phone in case Jackie called her back. It had become too dangerous to drive one handed. The chevron warnings on the curve of the road too close to ignore. Depressing the clutch, Rachel changed down a gear as her car approached the first bend.

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  Monday Morning 14 December 2009

  ‘Thanks for that Grimesey.’ Cooper responded to the familiar voice on the other end of the line, before terminating the call.

  ‘What?’ Walters wanted to know, momentarily taking his eyes of the road ahead. The detectives were following up the lead provided by Rupert Ridgway and were on their way to Cornwall.

  ‘Message finally through from the MOD. Our Richard Harold Johnson signed up at the age of eighteen in 1989, for the minimum term of four years. During that time he had three tours of duty in Northern Ireland. Johnson was discharged twelve months early, on health grounds. He was critically wounded in an ambush in the Falls Road area of Belfast. Two of his colleagues died in the same attack. Johnson had been hospitalised for months. Apparently, it was touch and go at one point. However, it seems his strength of character pulled him through.’

  ‘No happy memories there, then?’

  ‘Strangely enough the officer who’d called the station actually remembered Johnson. He was on active service with the guy in Northern Ireland, at the time of the event.’

  ‘And what you’re going to tell me now was how well liked Johnson was, even back then.’

  ‘I don’t know. I expect Grimes didn’t ask him. I just thought it was a coincidence worth mentioning, that’s all.’

  ‘More relevant Cooper, is Johnson wasn’t serving in the forces in August ‘96, but that doesn’t mean to say he wasn’t in Northern France, at the time in question.’

  ‘But does that seem likely sir? Would someone described as possessing strength of character, end up living rough, in a derelict French manor house?’

  ‘Perhaps living through that tumultuous time of his life unhinged Johnson a little. Seeing your mates die and nearly losing your own life at such a young age, couldn’t have been a barrel of laughs. What would he have been, twenty one? I knew a guy a lot older than that, who’d served in Belfast. He said it was a living nightmare. Told me you couldn’t enjoy your leave, after you’d finished your tour, because at the bac
k of your mind was the ever present thought that you’d have to go back, face your demons all over again. Not once, but however many times it took. It was enough to break the strongest constitution. Not knowing who you could trust. The kids were as bad as the adults. He’d seen more than one good man fall by the wayside, during that particular tour.’

  ‘No wonder Johnson was hesitant in giving his blessing when his lad was considering joining up.’

  ‘You make it sound like it was his son, Cooper.’

  ‘You know what I mean, sir. Perhaps Johnson did look on the youth in a fatherly way and was trying to talk him out of making the same mistakes he did. Only this time, a lot further from home.’

  ‘Belfast, Afghanistan, I don’t suppose there’s much difference. Same risk of being shot, or blown to smithereens. Alas, we all have to learn by our own mistakes. Somebody telling you, you shouldn’t do something, especially when you’re young, makes you all the keener to do it... Is there any way we can shut this annoying, mono toned bitch up, Cooper? If she tells me to turn right at the next junction and off our route one more time, I’ll...’

  ‘Calm down sir, she’s off now.’ Cooper had touched one of the buttons on the small square attached to the windscreen, instantly silencing Walters’ irritant. ‘We’ll switch her back on later, when she’s needed. I think she’s got rather a cute voice, myself.’

  ‘You would do.’ After a pause Walters added, ‘I’m surprised you’re not feeding your face for once Arnold, while you’ve got the chance. Your mum forget to send you off with a packed lunch today?’ It was meant as a gentle taunt, but it somewhat backfired on the inspector.

  ‘Well if you’re sure you don’t mind, sir.’ Arnold reached an arm into the gap between the front seats. Stretching into the back foot well he rescued the logoed carrier bag lodged there. Once retrieved, the carrier on his knee, the sergeant proceeded to un-wrap the silver foil on the large square package, he’d retrieved from the bag. ‘Do you want one sir, they’re egg mayonnaise?’