by Lisa Cutts
70
Before we’d left, I had checked with the hospital that Tommy was still there and what department he was now in. That hadn’t been easy, as they were cautious about giving out information, but what they had told me was that, shortly after the paramedics had rushed him to Accident and Emergency, he’d been transferred to an acute medical ward.
We drove around the car park a couple of times before I spotted a space, and then nipped off to get a ticket for two hours. I didn’t think we’d be there that long, but if Tommy was up for talking I didn’t want to rush away. I wondered if I was being too optimistic, though, as the nurse I spoke to on the phone hadn’t even been willing to tell me if he was conscious or not. If meeting Tommy had done nothing else, it had forced me to take it easy with the wine.
Wingsy and I picked our way through the familiar gaggle of smokers at the main entrance and on towards Tommy’s bedside. Once inside, Sister Denise Lyle led us to a relatives’ room, where I explained that Tommy was a witness and Wingsy and I had found him collapsed on his bedroom floor.
‘We’ve done as much as we can for him,’ Sister Lyle explained. ‘He was resuscitated with fluids, and given intravenous antibiotics and medication to prevent him having alcohol withdrawal symptoms.’ She paused and smiled a small, sweet smile. No doubt she was used to giving bad news to friends and relatives about their loved ones, and probably well aware that, as detectives, our knowledge of medical procedures was almost nil. It had been a long couple of days and I was probably wearing my vacant expression. It often helped me out and was doing a very good job today.
‘Mr Ross had an ultrasound scan taken of his liver and abdomen when he was brought in,’ she continued. ‘His condition is very far advanced. There isn’t much we can do for him now, but we’re making him as comfortable as we can.’
‘Can I ask you a couple of things, please?’ I said. I wasn’t sure I was going to like her answer but I couldn’t leave it unsaid. I fidgeted on my chair and unbuttoned my jacket. ‘Would Tommy have recovered if he’d stopped drinking when he first became ill and then had some treatment?’
‘It’s difficult to say. It’s likely that he would have improved slightly, but the damage was already done. In this kind of situation, most people carry on drinking, as they know there’s little chance of a drastic improvement. We knew from his history that we were looking at end-of-life care.’
Denise Lyle paused, head tilted in my direction. She had kind eyes that had probably looked at hundreds of bewildered loved ones asking about their nearest and dearest’s chances. She was probably being a little more honest with me than usual owing to our official capacity.
‘And the other thing…’ I said taking a deep breath. ‘We’d been to see Tommy and he was – well, he was helping us with something.’ I stole a glance in Wingsy’s direction. He was looking at his feet. ‘He stopped drinking, you see. The thing that he was helping us with meant a lot to him, and he was determined to see a trial out and to lay some personal matters to rest. If we hadn’t knocked on his door and asked for his help, propelling him towards sobriety, would he have stood a better chance if he’d received scheduled treatment via the hospital consultant?’
Sister Lyle closed her eyes, pursed her lips and shook her head. ‘No. It’s the kind of thing we get asked a lot,’ she said, looking at me again. ‘Liver cirrhosis brings with it multiple organ complications such as heart problems. Excessive alcohol will kill you. It’s that simple. You’ve come all this way, so would you like to see Tommy now?’
The answer to that was no, not really. What I wanted to do was go home and put the kettle on. But we had after all driven a fair distance and, however uncomfortable I was with seeing him, it was the main purpose of the journey.
I steeled myself for an uncomfortable time and followed her to Tommy’s bedside. I had had enough of hospitals to last me a lifetime.
71
Wingsy and I felt equally glum when we left the hospital. I even offered to buy us both something to eat, but he wasn’t to be cheered up that easily.
‘You only said that you’ll pay because you’re going to claim it back on expenses anyway,’ he said from the passenger seat.
‘There’s no pleasing you, is there? Of course I’m going to claim it back, but it’s the thought that counts. I hoped lunch would cheer you up, plus keep the tea stains on your shirt company.’
We continued to bicker about stopping for food until we got to Marilyn and Charles Fitzhubert’s house. Earlier I’d left a message on their answerphone saying that we’d drop in as we were passing by, but so far I’d received no reply. I’d got used to unreturned messages from the public and professionals over the years, though, so I didn’t read too much into it any more. Even when I pulled up outside their house and noticed the lack of a car outside, Wingsy and I still got our paperwork from the back seat and headed to the front door, optimistic that someone would be home.
Marilyn opened the door, telephone in hand. ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I just listened to your message. Please come in. I’m glad we didn’t miss each other.’ She stood back to allow us into her home. ‘Charles had to go out,’ she added as I passed her in the hallway. ‘Go into the kitchen. I was about to make myself a coffee.’
The three of us sat around the counter in the centre of the room, waiting for the kettle to boil. It didn’t escape my notice that, despite the pod coffee maker, coffee grinder and cafetière, she chose the kettle and instant granules.
Marilyn said, ‘I wanted to tell you something, Nina. Since we spoke the day Tommy went into hospital, I’ve been to see him a couple of times. He wasn’t very coherent most of the time but he did talk about Shona’s accident once or twice. It was all quite garbled but he muttered something about it being his fault and being weak. I don’t know what he was really talking about, if I’m honest, but he did mention Leonard Rumbly and how he should have done something about Leonard when he could.’
I waited for her to go on, but Marilyn got off her kitchen stool and walked to the fridge, heels clipping on the ceramic tiled floor. As she came back over to us, steaming mugs in hand, I waited until she put them down before I got straight to the point. ‘Why didn’t you tell us that Leonard Rumbly had the seat next to you on the Chilhampton Express when it crashed?’
The colour didn’t so much drain from her face as fall off. An almost transparent Marilyn answered, ‘No one was ever supposed to know we had planned to spend a couple of days away together. I couldn’t get out of it, I really couldn’t. Leonard bought my train ticket and I told Malcolm I was visiting my aunt at the seaside. I was only going along with it because I wanted to tell Leonard I was in love with Malcolm and I was pregnant with his child.’ She fought back tears at this point and I saw her pause, regain control of her emotions before she said, ‘Malcolm knew I was going to be on the train, you see. He waved me off that morning to the station. He knew all along, and even after all these years I’m still lying over this sorry incident.’
I tried to feel sorry for her. On first meeting Marilyn, she had seemed upset and tearful at the very mention of the train crash. It was all beginning to fall into place now: she had failed to control her life all those years ago and the consequences of it were still plaguing her.
I got the feeling there was more Marilyn wasn’t telling me, but I wasn’t sure I was going to get to the bottom of it this way. I tried a different approach.
‘Do you have any idea why Tommy named Charles as next of kin?’
She sat back in her seat. ‘Tommy and his wife Shona were my son Liam’s godparents. Tommy and Charles knew each other from football, of course. Tommy hadn’t seen Liam for years but I know that he always kept tabs on him and was as proud of him as if he was his own flesh and blood.’
She paused to pick up her cup, and watched me take a sip of my own coffee.
‘Go on,’ I said, coaxing her to tell me more than she really wanted to.
She sighed and looked up to the ceiling. ‘Tommy and I g
ot to know each other after the crash. We were in hospital at the same time and we got talking. I can’t remember now whether we bumped into each other in a corridor or canteen, or the nurses got us together, or what it was. Anyway, we got chatting about the crash and I was in such a state. Physically I was on the mend, but Malcolm had hurt me very much by what he’d said, not to mention having a baby on the way, no father for it and no family around me. Tommy and Shona took me in. They were newly married and took pity on me.’
I sat listening to Marilyn, picturing a very scared and lonely young woman in an age when unmarried mothers faced a very different scenario from the one they might expect today. Little wonder that she’d latched on to Tommy, a man in whom I’d seen only kindness and sadness.
‘Well, Tommy and Shona spoilt me rotten,’ said Marilyn with a sad smile. ‘I felt at ease with them in their home. I was too proud to crawl back to Malcolm but too stupid to stay away from Leonard.’
Saying his name brought on a tightening in her neck and facial muscles. It was gone with such speed I might have imagined it, had I not met the man and found he made my own flesh crawl.
Composure regained, she continued her tale. ‘Four months pregnant, I went to visit Leonard. I knew that I couldn’t stay at the Rosses’ forever, despite their kindness, and…’ I noticed that Marilyn seemed to be breathing heavily. She closed her eyes and pinched the top of her nose. ‘When I got to Leonard’s office, I could hear noises coming from inside. Several people were shouting. I could make out that they were all men and it was getting violent. I didn’t want to know what it was about because I had enough on my plate. I turned to leave but not before I heard Leonard’s voice say something like, “Stupid bitch is better off dead.” I thought he was talking about me.’ She gave another bitter laugh. ‘That’s how important I still thought I was, even after everything else. But next thing I heard was a voice saying, ‘How do we get rid of the body? We should chuck her in the river. Why the fuck have you kept this here, Len? Get rid of it with the body; it’s covered in blood. Half of her head is caved in.” Lord knows what I’d got involved in.’
Marilyn had sat unmoving, eyes still closed. They fluttered open but she couldn’t look at me. She looked towards her kitchen window but I doubted she was focusing on the yellow patio roses swaying just outside it. She was looking into an office at the back of a warehouse in Deptford fifty years ago.
‘I ran,’ she said at last. ‘I ran. I was straight out of there and found myself on Deptford High Street. The first bus I saw was a number 53 and I knew it ran to the centre of town. I wasn’t sure where I was going but I pulled myself together by the time we reached the Old Kent Road. I got off at the Bricklayer’s Arms and found myself on Tower Bridge Road. I rang Shona and told her where I was. I was in such a state, crying and sobbing, Shona could hardly make me out. The Sixties were a time for heavy black eyeliner and mascara, so you can imagine how much attention I attracted. Tommy wasn’t in, but Shona said she’d try to track him down and I was to stay put. I’d rung her from a phone box and I waited in a café on the corner of Rothsay Street. I can remember it very clearly. It was called Rossi’s and owned by an Italian family. I got some strange looks, no doubt because I was in such a mess, but the owner was very kind and kept asking me if he could help or call anyone for me. I got a cup of tea, and I’d hardly touched it when I saw Tommy’s car pull up outside the Pagoda Pub. I’ve never been so glad to see someone, I can tell you.’
Watching Marilyn’s face, I could see how pained she was. Leaving my personal feelings aside, I had a nagging doubt about something. I’d learned to seek out the worst in people; it prevented me from being had over more often than was strictly necessary.
Tommy Ross had my empathy for his shattered, lonely life. Marilyn had made me feel sympathy towards her because of her earlier life. But right now I could only feel suspicious.
‘How long was it between you calling Shona and Tommy turning up?’ I said, banishing any hint of accusation from my tone.
Marilyn’s pretty face looked up. ‘It’s difficult to say. The café was fairly empty, I got served, sat down and before I knew it Tommy was there.’ She frowned. The lines on her forehead were more prominent in the daylight than they had been a few days earlier in the gloom of their living room. ‘I suppose he wasn’t all that long at all, now you mention it.’
‘Did you ever ask Tommy where he’d been when Shona managed to track him down?’ I asked, letting suspicion in.
‘Not at the time, I didn’t,’ she replied, ‘not the state I was in. We drove back to their flat in Belgravia and I went to bed. Tommy kept trying to ask me what I’d heard and who had been there. I told him what I just told you. I was frightened of Leonard and begged Tommy not to say anything to him.’
I tried again. ‘Marilyn, this is important. The tea you were drinking in the café. Was it that you didn’t try to drink it, or was it that you didn’t have time to drink it?’
‘I’m not sure I follow you,’ she said. ‘What’s so important about a cup of tea from fifty years ago?’
‘What I’m trying to work out is how long it took Tommy to get to you.’
‘Let me think,’ she said. ‘Tommy said something to me later about being on his way to Manze’s pie and mash shop. Footballers’ diets then weren’t anything like they are today. Manze’s was his favourite, and only around the corner from where he picked me up.’
I looked back down at the cooling coffee in front of me. I glanced down to hide my eyes. I wasn’t happy with Marilyn’s explanation, as Shona wouldn’t have been able to get hold of Tommy if he had been on his way to get pie and mash, in an age long before mobile phones. She would have had to know where he was.
Wingsy leaned forward, looking straight at Marilyn’s ashen face. ‘I think, that day, it was Tommy you overheard with Leonard Rumbly and someone else discussing a murder they’d committed and how they were going to get rid of her body. Then Tommy picked you up from the café and drove you home.’
72
Marilyn didn’t seem to take the news as badly as I would have expected. She remained very still for several seconds, before she said, ‘It’s something I’ve not allowed myself to dwell on. My only thoughts back then were for my unborn child. Tommy and Shona introduced me to Charles a month or so later and, much to my astonishment, he proposed. I refused to let anything unpleasant occupy my thoughts, so I moved on and didn’t look back. It might seem harsh, but things were finally looking up and – well, it’s not as though I heard them planning a murder. From what they said, the girl was already dead. So I didn’t tell anyone.’
Marilyn seemed to decide this was the moment that the cups needed washing up. She gathered our cups and saucers and turned her back on us at the sink. Her back was rigid as she clinked her good china together. I guessed we were moments away from being asked to leave.
‘Who was the other person in the office with Tommy and Rumbly?’ I asked the back of her head.
She looked to the side and said over her shoulder, ‘I’ve told you, I didn’t recognise the voice.’
‘You may not have at the time, but do you now know who it was?’
‘My husband will be home soon,’ she said, as she turned to face us, wiping her hands on a towel. ‘I have things to do before I go back to the hospital to see Tommy later.’
Neither I nor Wingsy resisted her request; we started to gather our stuff together. I made a point of leaving her a business card printed with my name, mobile and office number, information I knew she already had.
‘We’ll be in touch soon, Marilyn, about a statement,’ I said as I got down from the kitchen stool and picked up my bag. ‘Do you have any idea who the woman was they were talking about?’
She wouldn’t look me in the eye and took to fiddling with the pendant on her necklace.
I couldn’t resist a parting shot at her: she knew more than she was letting on but I needed to be armed with more information before I pushed her.
‘Fo
r what it’s worth, Marilyn,’ I said as I hoisted my bag on to my shoulder, ‘I think it could easily have been you next. It may only have been your unborn baby that saved you.’ I paused to let that sink in and then added, ‘In the meantime, you know where we are.’
My comments were met with a glare, but our hostess followed us to the front door, held it open and thanked us for coming. She even added, ‘Safe journey, officers,’ although I wasn’t sure she meant it.
We got back into the car and started our journey back to the large pile of paperwork waiting for us in the Cold Case office. ‘What do you reckon about Charles being the other person in the room that day?’ I said as we reached the main road.
Wingsy shrugged and said, ‘It could be him but, even if she was desperate, would Marilyn have married a man she knew was involved in covering up a murder?’
‘I don’t know, but the more I speak to her and find out about her, the more I think she’s got by on her looks and leeched off people.’
My friend turned across to look at me and said, ‘I thought you’d taken to her?’
‘I had, but, when you look at everything, firstly she’s dating Malcolm Bring who was a bit of a loser even back then; then she confronts Rumbly about the gambling debts but goes on several dates with him – not to mention steals from him. And then, pregnant, she moves in with Tommy and Shona who are only just married, then she gets introduced to a wealthy, good-looking footballer who plays for England, but won’t consider the possibility that her now very rich husband may have done something wrong.’
‘Perhaps she’ll call you,’ said Wingsy.
‘I bet she won’t,’ I said. ‘In fact, I bet you lunch that I’ll have to call – ’ My phone started to ring. The caller display on the hands-free showed the name Marilyn F.
