Bones Under The Beach Hut

by Simon Brett

'Yes, but I'd never give them expression in that way. And, besides, I'm not on any register or anything. Nobody else knows that I have . . . you know, what you said.'

  'If that were true, Mr Southwest, we wouldn't be having this conversation now. The person who "shopped" you knows. Why shouldn't a lot of other people?'

  'But nobody knew back then, you know, when Robin Cutter disappeared.'

  'And that was why the police didn't question you at the time?'

  'Yes.'

  'Something which the police might now regard as something of an oversight.'

  It took a moment for the implication of her words to sink in. 'Are you saying that I'm likely to be questioned about that?'

  'I would think it's a very strong possibility.'

  He looked appalled at the idea. Sweat was now prickling on his pale brow as he repeated, 'But I'm not on any Sex Offenders Register or anything. I've never touched a child in that way.'

  'We have only your word for that,' said Carole, rather enjoying the police 'we'.

  'But if I'm questioned there'll be lots of publicity. I might lose my job at Fether District Council.'

  'Mr Southwest, eight years ago a very serious crime was committed. By pure chance you weren't questioned about it at the time. But given the facts: A) that you have admitted to me that you have paedophile tendencies, and B) that the remains of Robin Cutter were found under a beach hut for which you have responsibility, I think the very least that will happen is that you'll be asked to prove that you had nothing to do with the boy's abduction.'

  'I didn't. You have to take my word for it.'

  'You'd say that whether you were innocent or guilty, wouldn't you?' Shiftily he avoided her gaze. 'Were you doing your current job eight years ago?'

  'Yes.'

  'So you could easily have been here at Smalting the day Robin Cutter disappeared?'

  'I could have been, but I wasn't.'

  'Could you prove that?'

  'I don't know. We're talking about eight years ago, for God's sake. I could have been here. All right, maybe I was, but if I was I didn't see any small boy here and I certainly didn't abduct one. I'd already found a way of controlling my urges.'

  'You've mentioned that more than once, Mr Southwest. Would you explain to me what you mean by "controlling your urges"?'

  'Yes, all right.' He was reluctant and the words came out slowly. 'The fact is, Carole, that I've always felt like I do and there was a time when perhaps I did represent a danger to children, when perhaps my urges would have got the better of me. It was something I was always afraid of. I tried to avoid being in situations where I might be left alone with children, and yet at the same time I wanted to be in situations where I was left alone with children. I was afraid that I might touch one of them, and then I might not be able to stop myself and . . .' The sweat was by now pouring profusely down his brow and temples. 'Then I found that I could stop myself from thinking about actually doing things to children, actually touching them, by seeing images of other people . . .' His words petered out.

  'Of other people doing things to children?'

  'Yes.'

  'You mean by watching pornography?' asked Carole in disgust.

  'Yes, but don't be so dismissive of it. For me child pornography is a harmless release for—'

  'But it's not harmless! The children who feature in that kind of material are being harmed. At the time they're filmed they're being abused by—'

  'Listen, Carole. If the existence of that pornography is stopping one person - me - from abusing a child, then surely that's a good thing?'

  'Well, it's—'

  'All I can say is that it works for me. It controls my urges, it provides a release for me - and it stops me from actually harming a real child!'

  There was a silence. Carole recognized that she was never going to see eye to eye with Kelvin Southwest on the subject. But, more importantly, she found she was beginning to believe his protestations that he had had nothing to do with the abduction of Robin Cutter. Her certainties of earlier in the day were melting away. But then again, she told herself, paedophiles were notoriously devious and plausible. As she had pointed out to him, a guilty Kelvin Southwest would say just the same things as an innocent one. She needed to find out more.

  'So where do you get this pornography from?' she asked with a shudder. 'Do you download it from the internet? Are you part of some paedophile ring? Or do you have another source?'

  'I have another very good source,' he replied almost smugly. 'A very good source indeed.'

  'Where do you get it from?'

  There was a note of pride in his voice as he said, 'You should know this, Carole, given your background in the Home Office.'

  'Oh?' she asked, puzzled.

  'Where does child porn go when it's confiscated?'

  'Well, obviously it goes to the police.'

  'Exactly. So if someone like me had a contact in the police, a contact let us say who owed one a favour . . . that person might be persuaded to access ... to copy that kind of material for one, mightn't they?'

  'And are you saying you have that kind of a contact?'

  'I do.'

  Carole didn't need to ask him for the name. Suddenly the whole shabby set-up was crystal clear to her. 'Curt Holderness,' she said.

  Kelvin Southwest nodded, pleased with his own cleverness. 'Yes, and even though he's left the force, he still has a friend there who keeps up the supply.'

  'And does Curt Holderness enjoy that kind of material too?'

  He chuckled. 'Why do you think he left the force early? Under something of a cloud? He could have been charged with stealing and disseminating the stuff, but the local police bigwigs didn't want the adverse publicity. He was shuffled out unceremoniously but discreetly. And since he was doing a favour for me . . .'

  'You organized for him to get the job as security officer for the Smalting Beach Hut Association?'

  Kelvin Southwest gave another self-satisfied nod.

  Carole Seddon's mind was reeling. Everything she had thought about the case was suddenly turned on its head. Earlier in the day she had contemplated ending her interview with the Fether District Council official by revealing that she wasn't really a police officer, but now no thought could have been further from her mind.

  She also felt fairly convinced that Kelvin Southwest had had nothing to do with the abduction and murder of Robin Cutter, but she wasn't about to tell the man that. Let him suffer a bit longer.

  And in the meantime she would get back in touch with Curt Holderness.

  * * *

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Unlike Kelvin Southwest, Curt Holderness wasn't under the illusion that Carole Seddon was attached in any way to the police force. Nor, given his career background, did she reckon he'd be fooled for a moment if she claimed she was. But she still didn't reckon he'd argue when she said she'd like to meet and talk.

  He didn't. She rang him as soon as a very chastened and nervous Kelvin Southwest had left . . . with many pleas that she would not tell anyone else about what they had discussed. But she wasn't about to let that particular little worm off the hook by giving him any such undertaking.

  When she passed on to Curt Holderness what she'd heard from the Fether District Council official, the security officer agreed instantly to a meeting. He asked where she was and said he'd come straight to Smalting. Fowey that morning was becoming a kind of 'Incident Room' and in Carole's view the beach hut served the purpose pretty well. Though there was no one near enough to overhear any conversations conducted there, it was in full public view and therefore safe.

  As she had the thought, she remembered that it was in full public view, in a situation that anyone might have thought to be safe, that Robin Cutter had been abducted on that very beach. A little shudder ran through her.

  But no feeling of fear could overpower the sense of excitement welling up inside her. She was finally making real progress on the case. And on her own. Jude might live to regret wasting
her time at a Past Life Regression Workshop in Brighton.

  'Funny, Carole. I hadn't got you down as a blackmailer.'

  She looked up to see the stocky figure of Curt Holderness standing between her and the sun. She was sure he had chosen to approach from that angle to emphasize his menace. And he'd succeeded. In spite of the June heat, he was once again wearing his black motorcycle leathers, though he stripped off the blouson as, uninvited, he sat in the chair opposite her. Underneath he had on a Metallica tour T-shirt.

  'I'm not a blackmailer,' said Carole, with a calm that she didn't feel.

  'Then what is all this about?'

  'I am interested in the disappearance of Robin Cutter.'

  'You're not alone in that. Everyone on the South Coast has theories on the subject.'

  'Yes, but I'm interested in your involvement in it, Curt.'

  He shrugged, remarkably insouciant, given the implied accusation in Carole's words. 'All right. I was still on the force then. I worked on the case briefly. Went through some of the foot-slogging, house-to-house inquiry stuff. Didn't come up with anything useful. If you're hoping to get new information out of me, forget it. I don't have any.'

  'That wasn't what I meant. Robin Cutter was assumed to have been abducted by a paedophile . . .'

  'That was the general view, yes. After another high-profile local case, people were seeing paedophiles everywhere. God, the number of paranoid calls we got at the station round that time.'

  'Are you suggesting you think there was another explanation for Robin Cutter's disappearance?'

  He shrugged again. 'Not particularly, no.' His answers sounded laid-back, but Carole could sense the tension in him. He was on the alert, waiting to see which direction their interview was taking.

  'I said on the phone what Kelvin Southwest had told me . . .'

  'Uh-huh.'

  '. . . about you supplying him with child pornography.'

  'Okay, I'm not denying it. The little creep wanted the stuff, I had access to it, we made a deal. It was a business arrangement.'

  'A business arrangement that led to your early retirement from the police force?'

  'Yes, all right. I don't deny that either. And if you're planning to blackmail me over it, I don't think you'll find the top brass in the force any keener to bring that out into the open now than they were at the time.'

  'No, but the fact that you dealt in child pornography has other ramifications, doesn't it, Curt?'

  'Like what? I had access to the stuff. I had the technology to copy it. I saw a way of making a quick buck. Salaries in the police force aren't that generous, you know.'

  'I do know. I used to work for the Home Office.' If she had hoped that Curt Holderness might be impressed by that, she was disappointed, so she went on, 'It's a well-known fact that paedophiles exchange pornography with each other, that they form rings.'

  'So?'

  'I'm just suggesting that when you and Kelvin Southwest exchanged pornography you might have discussed going a step further, to move from using images of the stuff to realizing your fantasies with an actual child.'

  It took him a second to take in the full implication of her words. And when he did, he was furious. 'Are you saying that I'm one of them? That I'd be in a ring with a little perve like Kel? God, they repel me, people like that! Scum! Filth! So far as I'm concerned you could string up the lot of them today without a trial!'

  'Given that's your view, you seem surprisingly friendly with Kelvin Southwest.'

  'That's a business arrangement, nothing more. We've both done favours for each other in the past and they're the kind of favours that we don't want to become public knowledge.'

  'Your continuing to supply him with pornography, him having organized the security officer job for you?'

  'Exactly that, yes. The reason we spend time together is because we don't trust each other. He's keeping an eye on me and I'm keeping an eye on him.'

  'Curt, you say you're not a paedophile—'

  'Too bloody right I'm not.'

  'But your police career was ended early and in disgrace because you'd been accessing child pornography.'

  'Accessing it, yes. Not bloody using it for my own purposes! God, at times I had to watch some of the stuff for professional reasons, you know, when we were trying to nail some pervy schoolteacher or someone like that . . . and it bloody turned my stomach. I'm glad I don't even have to copy the stuff any more. My mate who's still in the force does that. He hands over the CDs to me, I pass them on to Kel. Thank God, I don't see any of the content now.'

  'But,' Carole persisted, 'you were turned out of the police force for—'

  'I was turned out of the police force for copying and selling the stuff. How many times do I have to tell you? I don't get any kick from watching filth like that. It's disgusting!'

  'Then why did you come here so promptly when I reported what Kelvin Southwest had told me?'

  'I came because I've got a good little business going, and I don't want a nosy bitch like you to bugger it up. The police wouldn't have any interest in prosecuting me - I'm ancient history - but if they found out about my mate on the inside who's keeping up the supply for me . . . well, they'd close down the operation sharpish, and I could lose a lot of money out of that.'

  'Are you implying that Kelvin Southwest isn't the only client you supply?'

  'What if he isn't? The important point you seem to be failing to take on board is that I deal in the stuff, I don't use it myself.'

  Carole found herself in a familiar dilemma. What Curt Holderness said sounded very plausible. His repulsion at the thought of watching child pornography seemed genuine. But then again, as with Kelvin Southwest, someone who really was a paedophile would make himself sound just as plausible.

  'So,' she asked rather desperately, 'you have no idea what happened to Robin Cutter?'

  'Not until his bones were found under that beach hut over there, no.' Curt Holderness suddenly turned businesslike. 'Listen, Carole, I've got to know what you're planning to do. That's why I came here. Are you going to keep the information about my mate supplying the porn to yourself? And if so, on what terms? You say you're not a blackmailer—'

  'And I'm not.'

  'Then what do you want?'

  'I want to find out what happened to Robin Cutter.'

  He was silent for a moment, calculating. Then he said, 'So if there was a piece of information I could give you - something I'd found out while I was working on the case, something no one else knows - if I were to give you that, would you get off my back?'

  'I certainly would, Curt.' She wasn't sure whether what she said was true, but she knew it was the answer he required at that moment.

  'Right.' Again he was silent, assessing his situation. 'Okay, try this,' he said at length. 'You know the boy was being looked after by his grandparents when he disappeared?' Carole nodded. Curt Holderness pointed along the row of beach huts. 'Those two old dears over there, as it happens - you know them?'

  'Yes, we've talked to each other.'

  'Okay, so you know that the old geezer brought the boy down here and he was snatched outside the ice-cream shop up on the prom.'

  'I heard the circumstances.'

  'Well, needless to say, the forensic boys pulled in the old man's car as soon as possible - took it from right here where he'd parked it in Smalting - and they ran every test they could on it. Of course they found Robin Cutter's DNA all over the interior. Well, they would, wouldn't they? Kid saw a lot of his grandparents, Lionel Oliver would have driven him around all over the place.

  'Nothing odd in that. But there was something one of the forensic boys thought was odd and I remember chatting to him in the canteen about it.' He paused, fully aware of the command he had on Carole's attention. 'Now the boy - Robin Cutter - was like five, wasn't he, at the time he disappeared - and his Mum was always insistent that when he went in the car he was clipped into a child seat, you know, for safety reasons. She'd taken Robin's seat out of her car w
hen she dropped the boy with his grandparents that morning and said, if they drove him anywhere, they were to make sure they used it. But when Lionel Oliver's car was taken from here to the labs, straight after the boy had been abducted, there was no car seat fixed in it.

  'Okay, the old boy had an explanation. He said he was from a different generation, that he wasn't mollycoddled when he was a nipper . . . you know how that generation go on about stuff. There weren't any car seats around when he was growing up and it'd never done him any harm. And he said the boy Robin liked being free to move around in the car, and it was their little secret and he wasn't to tell his Mum, but his Granddad reckoned he was grown up enough not to need a car seat. Okay, the old boy's explanation could have been the truth, certainly everything else in his account tallied and rang true, but at the time I did think it a little odd.'

  It was funny, Carole had always had a feeling that at some point the investigation would entail talking further to the Olivers.

  * * *

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Curt Holderness didn't exactly threaten her when he left, but Carole felt the undercurrent of menace in him. She wouldn't volunteer to spend any more time with him in the future, and was glad there was no reason why she should. A little shudder of relief ran through her body as he set off back up the beach to his motorbike.

  Her morning in the Fowey 'Incident Room' had taken longer than she expected. When she looked at her watch once the security officer was out of sight, she was surprised to see it was ten past twelve. She looked along the row of beach huts. Outside Mistral the Olivers sat in their usual positions. Carole was undecided as to how her next step should be taken. In spite of her desire to solve the case and crow over Jude, she found herself wishing her friend was there. Dealing with the Olivers was likely to require a level of delicacy which she wasn't confident that she possessed.

  With a synchronicity that Jude would have recognized and Carole herself pooh-poohed, at that moment her mobile phone rang. And of course it was Jude.

  'Oh, I thought you were regressing to a past life?'