by Marian Phair
As the patrol car pulled up outside his apartment, Graham Banks could not help noticing the stares from passersby, especially his nosy neighbour who was sitting as usual, on her veranda, gossiping with a friend. Her jaw almost dropped to her chest when the police officer walked up the pathway, escorting him to the door. Conversation stopped as the two passed under the veranda and was not taken up again until the officer returned to his vehicle.
Graham Banks inserted his key into the lock, and paused for a moment to listen to the gossiping women, before entering and closing the door firmly behind him. Throwing his key into a bowl on the hall stand, he headed for the kitchen, the little Jack Russell hot on his heels. The dog paced back and forth, as his master took a can of dog food from the cupboard, his eyes never leaving the can of food, as his master rummaged in the kitchen drawer for the can opener, the little dog was whimpering in his eagerness to get at the food bowl.
Graham grabbed a can of beer from the ‘fridge and made for the front room, flopping down on the couch. Picking up the remote control for the television he switched it on and started flicking through the channels.
He could not help but feel a little important, although the incident had not made any of the news channels. He guessed it was too soon, it would not have hit the media yet. Maybe he thought, they would name him as the person finding the body. It would certainly create a stir around here especially if the reporters came to his door, seeking an interview.
Little did he know then, it would be the topic of conversation for weeks to come.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
As the bus travelled west, towards County Fermanagh, Amie settled back in her seat. Feeling the slight pangs of hunger she reached into the carrier bag on the seat beside her and withdrew the small packet of food so kindly provided by Maggie. She munched on a cheese and pickle sandwich as she watched the landscape pass by. Sated, she settled herself down once more and in no time at all she was sleeping soundly, her head resting up against the grimy window of the bus as it sped on its journey. She was totally unaware of the goings on, around her.
The bus came to a grinding halt, with a squeal of airbrakes at the crossroads two miles outside the small town of Newtownbutler.
“This is as far as I go,” the driver told Amie, pressing a button beside the dashboard and opening the door of the bus for her. Amie thanked him and picking up her carrier bag, she alighted into the twilight.
Amie stood for a moment watching the fading lights of the bus as it disappeared into the light swirling mist that covered the land. She took the road to her left. To call it a ‘road’ was an over statement, it was little more than a dirt track, used only by farm vehicles, and the odd fisherman making his way to the shores of the Lough Erne. She wished with all her heart she had had the foresight to telephone the Nesbitt’s before setting out on her journey. The likelihood of anyone coming along at this time of the evening was slim to none. With a sigh, she made her way as quickly as her heavily pregnant form would allow, needing to reach her destination before darkness fell.
The mist made visibility very poor, swallowing up the landscape as she passed along the track. She had travelled less than a mile, when it turned into a cold battering rain. Hooking the carrier bag over her arm, she pulled the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands, in an attempt to keep them as dry and warm as possible. Within minutes, she was soaked through to the skin. Cold, wet, miserable and tired, tears of self-pity coursed down her cheeks.
Suddenly, without any warning, the hedgerow beside her gave way. A bull came charging across her pathway. Startled, Amie jumped to one side and losing her footing on the wet grass, she fell forward into the deep ditch that ran along the hedgerow, landing heavily. Winded, she almost passed out as a sharp pain knifed through her abdomen. She heard the fading sounds of hoof-beats as the beast ran on down the track.
With difficulty she hauled herself out of the ditch and up the grassy slope, collapsing on its verge. She felt warmth spreading between her thighs, and thought her waters had broken. Terrified she was going into labour, she slid her hand down into the wetness. When she withdrew it, her fingers were covered in blood. Petrified, she wiped the sticky red mess on the wet grass and tried to stand, Amie knew she had to get help quickly, and to make matters worse, darkness was rapidly falling.
She took a few tentative steps holding onto her side, as the pains washed over her. “Please God, help me!.” she cried out in despair, staggering on, not realising in her panic she was heading away from the Nesbitt’s farm. Then, just when she knew she could go no further, she heard the sound of a car’s engine in the distance. The last thing she saw was its headlights coming towards her, as she passed out.
As if in a dream, Amie could hear voices talking in whispers around her. She tried to open her eyes, but the lids felt so heavy, as if something was weighing them down. She thought she heard a baby crying and struggled to raise herself up, but fell back again, sick with pain and exhaustion. Unable to resist the drugs in her body, she drifted off once more into a deep slumber.
They took it in turns watching over her that night, and as the night faded into dawn, Dr Fredrick Reid rose stiffly from his chair beside her bed, where he had been dozing. He yawned and stretched his aching limbs then went into the next room and woke Nan Parker. Leaving instructions for Amie’s care, he left to get some much needed sleep.
It had been a long night for ‘Freddie’ and he still had to travel back to Ballyshannon. He had been offered a room at the big house, but much preferred the comfort of his own bed, besides which he had a surgery to run.
Thankfully he did not get too many late night call-outs. It was only by chance he was here, when Amie was brought in. He had been called out to a farmhand who had been gored by a mad bull, which had gone off on a rampage. The local police were to his knowledge, still out searching for it.
He intended to get in touch with Dr Sam and find out just what circumstances had driven Amie back to Northern Ireland.
Was it good fortune, or divine intervention, that had Lord Craig Harding, travelling along that particular stretch of the road at that time? Had he not been, her body would surely have been found, soaked through, covered in mud and blood, dead by the roadside.
Nan Parker had been a great help to him. Although in her seventies, she was more than capable of caring for the mother and the baby and had been a midwife as far back as doctor Fredrick Reid could remember.
Amie had lost a lot of blood, but with rest and careful nursing, she would soon recover. Between them, they had saved the baby girl, who although born a month premature, was showing no real signs of distress at the ordeal she had gone through.
Nan had charge of the baby’s care. It had been whisked away from the estate before any of the staff even knew what was happening.
Nan had engaged a private nurse from over the border to tend to the baby in secret. She claimed it was her sixteen year old niece’s child, who had given birth and then ran away, leaving Nan to care for the baby.
“The man who knocked my niece up, is serving time in jail, he wanted nothing more to do with her once he knew she was pregnant. I need you to have the sole care of the baby, and keep a still tongue in your head. I don’t know what I would do if any more shame came on my doorstep. I feel responsible,” she whined, “she was in my care you see, her family kicked her out once they found out. I only wish I knew what I was doing around babies, but I haven’t a clue how to care for them. I never married, and had a family of my own.” Nan removed a handkerchief from her apron pocket, and dabbed at her eyes, mopping up the non existing tears.
“You have my word,” said the nurse, “I will not let a living soul know what I have been hired to do. I will take great care of the baby, for it will need careful nursing to build its strength up.” Nurse Kathleen McGee went over to Nan and putting a comforting arm across her shoulders said, “Now don’t you be upsetting yourself, everything will be alright, you can trust me. I will do a good job for you.”<
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“See that you do, you will be paid well enough for it. You can have the spare room at the back of the house, and I will take care of all the other needs, for the three of us,” Nan told her, adding, “once arrangements can be made with my cousin, who is going to adopt the baby and raise it as one of her own, your job will be done.” Nan watched the nurse get everything sorted, that was needed for the job in hand, then left her to get on with things and returned to the ‘big house’ to check on Amie. Dr Samuel Morrison did not know it yet, but the price he would have to pay for the extra trouble and expense she was going through was going to cost him dearly!
Amie was lying in the bed, her hair, which had not had chance to grow back to its former glory, was sticking up in short spikes around her head. She was awake, but Nan could see she had not been awake for long as she was still drowsy. Nan approached the bed, placing two fingers on Amie’s wrist, she checked her pulse. Amie looked up at Nan through half-closed eyelids, asking, “my baby, where is my baby?” her free hand feeling her abdomen under the bed linen.
“Shush now,” said Nan, “you must not upset yourself, you need to rest and get well.”
“What has happened to my baby?” Amie cried struggling to get out of the bed.
Nan pushed her back down into the pillows, saying, “now you just lie quietly, there’s a good girl, I’m here to help you and to see that you get well again.” She picked up the syringe and prepared a sedative.
Amie screamed out in anguish, “where is my baby? Is it well? Is it a boy or a girl? TELL ME!”
Nan lent over the hysterical woman trying to get out of the bed and injected the sedative into her buttock. Then she settled Amie back under the bedclothes, all the while making soothing sounds to calm her down.
“You had a little girl, but I am so sorry my dear, she did not survive the ordeal,” Nan lied, “now you must get your strength back, you nearly died you know. When you are strong enough I will see that you are taken to her grave side.”
Nan bustled about, tidying up the room, removing the soiled linen and the used syringe, and placing them beside the door to take away later.
Amie lay still in the bed, the sedative taking effect. Her baby was dead and after all she had been through to protect it, she had failed.
“Where is she buried? I need to know.”
“Lord Craig had her buried in the family graveyard on the estate,” said Nan. “He will have a headstone engraved and placed on her grave as soon as you are well enough to attend and he knows what name you wish to put on it. Now you must rest.”
“If it was a boy, I was going to call him Ralph, and a girl, Laura Daisy.” Amie’s voice ended in a sob.
“Laura Daisy, that’s nice, why Daisy?” Nan asked her, “What made you choose such an old fashioned name like that?” Her heart softened a little to the pathetic figure on the bed. With its pale skin and spiky hair do, and big green eyes filled with tears, she looked like a broken little doll.
“Daisy was my grandmothers name,” Amie said, her voice barely a whisper, “she raised me after my parents died, I wish I had died too.”
Amie lay sleeping, dreaming of her dead baby in a tiny coffin, buried somewhere on the vast estate. In her dream she looked everywhere, but could not find her grave.
Nan gathered up the items by the door and turned to look once more at the figure sleeping fitfully, in the big four-poster bed. Heaving a sigh of relief she left, to go and find his Lordship and tell him the name that needed to be engraved on the headstone. Lord Craig had ordered Nan to report to him on a daily basis, always eager to know how Amie was progressing, but never venturing into the room where she lay.
It had been his mother’s room; she had died in that very bed. Maybe that was the reason he stayed away as it held too many sad memories for him.
No one else but Nan Parker knew, it had only taken a small cushion, half filled with earth to weight the tiny coffin.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Peter lay sleeping upstairs, at Rojo Tejado, unaware that his mother had been found dead, on the waste land behind the grounds. Forensic scientists were all over the house and grounds, looking for evidence. Epithelial swabs had been taken from Charlie, Jimmy and Enrico and all male members of the film crew, as a process of elimination and were sent off to the laboratory for DNA analysis. Statements had been taken and a telegram sent to Ralph Newman, informing him of his wife’s death.
Charlie, Jimmy and Millie, sat in the lounge in stunned silence.
“I will fix us all a drink,” Jimmy said, breaking the silence. Going over to the bar, he poured three large whiskeys into tumblers, adding ice and a dash of soda water, before handing one to Millie and Charlie, who was still shaken up from having to identify the body.
“I can’t believe this is happening, it’s like a bad dream, which I can’t wake up from,” said Millie. Taking a drink from her glass, almost choking as the fiery liquid hit the back of her throat. She wished Sean was here with her, but he was at sea, unaware of the tragedy that had taken place.
The police had interviewed Dr Sam, who told them, after stitching Melissa’s hand at his clinic; she had decided to go off somewhere quiet for a few days, to get herself sorted out. She had refused any further help from him. He had no idea where she went after she had left his clinic.
His story was confirmed by his practice nurse, Ellen Rodriguez. The police were satisfied, they were telling the truth, so, until they got the autopsy report, and the results of the evidence gathered thus far, they too were at a loss as to where to go next. The trail of events seemed to end in Tarragona.
The sudden shrill ringing of the telephone in the hall startled the three, who sat nursing their drinks. Millie’s drink spilled out onto her skirt and setting down her glass, she went into the kitchen to sort it out, whilst Jimmy went to answer the telephone.
“Olla, this is Officer Juan Carlos, I wish to speak to Captain Fernandez, on a matter of some urgency,” the voice on the other end said in English, a thick Spanish accent coming through.
“Hold the line, I will find him for you.” Jimmy informed him, setting the phone on the side table and going in search of the captain, finding him outside talking to another officer. After relaying the message to the captain, Jimmy rejoined Charlie in the lounge.
“Who was it, was it someone for us?” said Charlie, giving Jimmy an inquiring look.
“No,” Jimmy told him, “they wanted to speak to Captain Fernandez.”
“I wish they would all piss orf,” said Charlie, “and give us a bit ov peace, me bleedin’ ‘eads going round an’ round.”
Before Jimmy could answer, Captain Fernandez came into the room.
“That was a report from the lab. They have matched the DNA taken from the semen, found at the scene, with the epithelial swab taken from Enrico Garcia. He is being placed under arrest, as we speak; I thought you would like to know this. You are all free to carry on with your lives as normal now.”
With that, he left the room, calling out to the other officers to return to base.
“Wot’s ‘e fink is NORMAL, this ain’t bleedin’ normal, is it? Wot the ‘ell is we supposed ter do nah?” said Charlie, banging his empty glass on the table, “I can’t believe it, not Enrico, ‘e is such a quiet polite bloke, I can’t believe ‘e could do something like this.” Jimmy had not heard a word Charlie had said to him. Looking at Jimmy, Charlie continued, “then again, I suppose that’s not true, I can believe any fing ‘ov anybody these days, look wot ‘appened between you an that kid, I wouldn’t ‘ave faught it ‘ov you either mate.”
“Point taken,” Jimmy said not wishing to be reminded again of that episode in his life, “I guess this will be the parting of the ways now, once Peter’s father arrives and arrangements can be made for the funeral.”
“They ain’t gonna’ be a funeral yet, they won’t release the body until it’s all sorted an’ done wiv,” Charlie informed him.
“What’s going on, I saw the police forcing E
nrico into the back of a patrol car and he was wearing handcuffs,” said Millie, holding a cloth in one hand where she had been dabbing at the spilled drink on her skirt.
Jimmy put her in the picture.
Shocked, Millie sat down in the nearest chair, shaking her head, “I don’t believe it, they have made a mistake, I know Enrico he is my friend. He is a kind hearted soul, who would not hurt a fly, let alone murder someone. I don’t care what they say, or what evidence they say they have got against him, Enrico did not kill Melissa, I would stake my life on it.”
Millie went to her room and removing her clothing, donned her nightgown and lay down on the bed, her mind in a whirl. They had decided amongst them that they would keep the tragedy away from Peter and let his father be the one to break the sad news to him.
Downstairs the two men sat, drinks in hand watching the television, when suddenly, Melissa’s face appeared on the screen. A news flash in Spanish informed the public of her death. Charlie translated for Jimmy as best he could, what was being said.
‘Here is a news flash… The body, discovered two days ago, by a local man out walking his dog, has been identified as being that of the actress Melissa Proctor. She had been brutally violated and strangled. The chauffeur at Rojo Tejado, Enrico Garcia, has been arrested in connection with her murder. Next of kin have been informed. Ms Proctor had been on location here, during filming of her latest role in the ‘Sara Wilkes Story.’ Her murder has shocked the local community. Such a sad end to a great career, she will be sadly missed by all who knew her. Our hearts go out to all members of her family.’….
“Sadly missed by all who knew her,” said Jimmy, repeating what Charlie had translated.
Not by all, he mused, he would not miss her, no he would not miss her, one little bit.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
