She had almost made it when another waiter stepped out in front of her, instantly blocking her escape, saying, ‘Excuse me, Miss,’ as he held up his hands.
‘It’s okay,’ she said quickly, ‘my money’s on the table but I have to go now.’ But the waiter must have taken his cue from the maître d’ and he refused to step out of her way. ‘Excuse me,’ she said firmly but he reached out a hand until it touched her arm, lightly at first, then his grip started to tighten. Helen was trapped.
‘Don’t touch me!’ she shouted instinctively at the waiter and all heads instantly turned towards them. ‘How dare you touch me like that!’ The waiter flushed, backing away quickly as if he’d just been slapped across the face. Seizing her opportunity, Helen marched for the door, but not without calling the single word ‘Disgusting!’ back over her shoulder.
She pushed the door open and bolted through it. As soon as Helen was out of the door, she ran. She moved quickly across the street without glancing back then rounded a corner before losing herself amongst a crowd of shoppers on the high street.
LETTER NUMBER TWO
* * *
Were you alarmed by my correspondence, Tom? Was that it? There was a time when I might have been upset to receive a letter from a convicted murderer – and a famous one at that. I should probably have explained how I found you. It wasn’t difficult. People are easy enough to track down. You might want to be more careful in your line of work.
I don’t normally trust journalists but I think that you are different. I like your work. I believe you managed to crawl your way out of the gutter and I respect that. Are you ‘the repentant sinner’ the prison chaplain keeps telling us about, Tom? You might just be.
My appeal against conviction has been refused because there is no fresh evidence to overturn the guilty verdict and they won’t allow me to appeal against the length of my sentence. My solicitor keeps reminding me that murder is murder and the sentence is always life, so I am forced to face facts. I’m going to be in here for a very long time unless someone can vindicate me, and the police have no interest in doing that. They probably truly believe they have their man. They don’t. He’s still out there somewhere, just waiting to do it again – and if that isn’t a thought that keeps you awake at night, Tom, then it should.
Yours
Richard Bell
Chapter Five
‘What the bloody hell happened here?’ demanded Tom.
‘New owners,’ the barman said by way of explanation. Tom took in the sight of his favourite pub, which had just emerged from a two-week shutdown for ‘renovation’. Its walls were now painted bright orange and covered with framed pictures of Cadillacs and Chevys from the sixties that were completely out of place in a Durham city boozer. The long-serving barman was wearing a sombrero, which seemed to move independently of him while he poured drinks or dispensed plates of bar food.
Tom shook his head. ‘When I was last in here it looked like a pub. Not a brothel at the Alamo.’
‘It’s a new Mexican theme to go with the menu. They’ve got some huge models on order to keep the kids happy outside. A tyrannosaurus and a stegosaurus.’ The barman’s face told Tom he shared the younger man’s distaste. ‘But what can you do?’
Tom, who had made it one of his life’s rules never to drink in a pub with a plastic dinosaur in its garden, was about to say, you can go somewhere else but the barman had already poured a pint of his usual bitter and placed it on the bar in front on him. ‘Better enjoy that while you can,’ he explained, ‘they’re ripping out the pumps next week and replacing them with cervezas.’
‘Replacing them with what?’
‘Cervezas, I think it’s Spanish for beer. We are getting three of them in here on draught. Owners told me that’s what the punters want these days.’
‘That and plastic dinosaurs?’ said Tom doubtfully. ‘Are they Mexican dinosaurs?’
‘Don’t know.’ The barman thought it was a serious question.
Since when did drinkers become punters? thought Tom. ‘They’ll go bust in a year.’ He noticed a small machine on the bar which dispensed jelly beans, as if they were a sensible accompaniment to a pint of beer. But this wasn’t the final straw for Tom. The final straw was the repainted toilet doors that said ‘Senoritas’ and ‘Hombres’ instead of ‘Ladies’ and ‘Gents’.
‘Make that three months,’ he said sourly as he looked at the new bar food menu, which featured chilli dogs and refried beans, along with tacos and empanadas. ‘Is there a remote chance of getting a burger in here that isn’t smothered with salsa or guacamole?’
‘I’ll check with the kitchen.’ And he left Tom mourning the loss of his favourite Durham city watering hole. The barman returned and said, ‘That’s fine, the chef says you can have a burger-with-nowt.’
‘A burger-with-nowt it is then.’ Tom handed over his money.
While he waited for his burger-with-nowt, he sat in the corner trying to ignore the restlessness that was almost always in him these days. What the hell had he been thinking when he bought that house? It was supposed to be an investment and he was meant to be spending the afternoon searching for ‘home improvement solutions’, but he had no interest in that any more. Instead his thoughts turned back to Richard Bell.
Madman or no, Bell seemed pretty steadfast in his denials of murder. Tom knew most criminals continued to claim innocence long after they were convicted. It afforded them a sense of injustice to nurture while behind prison walls as they worked on an appeal, but there was something in Bell’s words that made him sound more believable than that. Tom wasn’t quite sure what it was though; perhaps the claim that the real murderer was still out there or maybe it was the bit about Tom being his last hope that intrigued him? Tom had once known an old lady without hope and witnessed the effect it had on her at first hand.
Tom fished inside his bag and brought out the fruits of his morning’s labours, a large number of black and white photocopied articles from the university library’s newspaper archive; each one dating back to the court case that ended with Richard Bell receiving a life sentence. He placed them in a neat pile on the table in front of him and began to read.
JULY 20, 1993
MURDER VICTIM’S LIFE PROBED
The investigation into the murder of former model, Rebecca Holt, is ‘centring on her complex private life’ a police source has revealed.
Rebecca’s body was found in her car at a rural County Durham location favoured by courting couples. She had been brutally beaten to death.
Rebecca, 30, was married to multi-millionaire northern businessman, Freddie Holt, 52, who made his fortune in construction. Holt was enjoying a cruise, shortly after the break-up of his 26-year marriage to first wife, Angela, when he met Rebecca who was working as a cabaret singer on the ship. They married following a whirlwind courtship. A neighbour of the couple, who did not want to be named, said, ‘Freddie is away a lot on business. It must have been very lonely for Rebecca in that big house all on her own.’
Police are working on the theory that Mrs Holt may have been planning to meet someone at Lonely Lane on the day of the attack. ‘We would like to speak to anyone who may have information regarding Mrs Holt’s private life,’ said Detective Chief Inspector Kane who is leading the investigation. ‘If you were due to meet Mrs Holt or know someone who was, please come forward so we can eliminate you from our enquiries.’
Police have already questioned several men who knew Rebecca Holt. Asked if Mrs Holt could have been attacked by a stranger, DCI Kane said, ‘We cannot rule anything out at this stage. Our enquiries are ongoing.’
JULY 28, 1993
MAN ARRESTED FOR LONELY LANE MURDER
A man has been arrested on suspicion of murdering Rebecca Holt. The 32-year-old, who has not yet been named, is thought to have known her intimately, according to a police source. He is currently undergoing questioning.
JULY 30, 1993
MURDER SUSPECT CHARGED
A local m
an has been charged with the murder of Rebecca Holt. Richard Bell, 32, was known by the victim and is a member of the same sports club. Bell is married with two young children. He has been remanded in custody awaiting a trial date.
OCTOBER 10, 1993
MURDER SUSPECT A ‘LADY-KILLER’ SAYS HIS OWN LAWYER ASTONISHING GAFFE FROM DEFENCE BARRISTER
The long-awaited trial of Richard Bell took a bizarre twist yesterday when his own lawyer referred to him as ‘a lady-killer’.
Martin Nixon told a jury they probably would not like his client but this did not mean Bell was guilty of murder. ‘Richard Bell is a handsome man who is capable of an easy charm and has perhaps taken advantage of this in his dealings with women,’ he said before adding, ‘in a bygone era we might have considered him to be something of a lady-killer.’ There were gasps from the public gallery at that and the defence barrister immediately added, ‘though obviously not in the literal sense.’ Richard Bell stared impassively from the dock throughout his lawyer’s opening remarks.
Bell is accused of murdering his lover Rebecca Holt, who was found dead inside her car, which was parked in a notorious lovers’ lane in rural County Durham. Police said she had been brutally beaten with a blunt instrument, possibly a claw hammer, during what was described as a frenzied attack.
Bell, 32, initially lied to police about their affair but, under questioning, later admitted meeting Rebecca regularly for sex sessions. He denies murdering the former singer and swimwear model because she threatened to expose their affair. Bell worked for his father-in-law’s company and, according to the prosecution, stood to lose everything if his extramarital activities were exposed by the woman he had been seeing, giving him a strong motive that ‘marks him out as the only credible suspect’ in her murder. The trial continues.
OCTOBER 12, 1993
KILLER COULD NOT HAVE BEEN A WOMAN
Rebecca Holt must have been murdered by a man, according to an expert witness. Professor Angus Matthews told a court that a woman ‘lacked the upper body strength for such a sustained and savage attack on another human being. Only a man could have administered blows of such ferocity with a blunt instrument, possibly a hammer, which caused the severe cranial fracturing that killed Rebecca.’
Richard Bell’s wife told the court she was standing by her husband, despite his adulterous relationship with the dead woman and the murder charge that now hangs over him. Annie Bell said she took a share of the responsibility for his affair. ‘I was often busy with work and the children. I regret that now. I want to rebuild our relationship and we are both determined to make this marriage work. Richard is completely innocent.’
Earlier, Bell’s friend and best man at his wedding, Mark Birkett, confirmed the accused once assaulted a former girlfriend. The police were called when Bell struck Amy Riordan, his college sweetheart, but Bell escaped with a caution and was allowed to continue with his studies.
The trial continues.
OCTOBER 18, 1993
JUDGE CONDEMNS SORDID AFFAIR
A trial judge condemned a murder suspect for ‘conducting a sordid affair’ with the victim. Richard Bell engineered ‘a number of sexual encounters with Rebecca Holt, which showed a level of cunning that could scarcely be credited’, said Mr Justice Thurley, who reserved particular scorn for the manner in which the two lovers communicated with one another. Using a complex dead-letter drop, he said, ‘was like something out of a John Le Carré novel’.
The judge told Bell he was an immoral man with a cold heart but it was up to members of the jury to decide whether this meant he was actually guilty of murder. They would have to look deep into their own hearts, he told them, in order to decide what lay in Richard Bell’s. ‘As you hear about his dual life, full of duplicity and lies, do you conclude that this is a man capable of committing a most brutal act of murder without a single moment’s remorse?’ The jury has retired to consider its verdict.
OCTOBER 21, 1993
MONSTER GUILTY OF BRUTAL MURDER KILLER SENTENCED TO LIFE FOR EVIL SLAYING OF FORMER LOVER
Rebecca Holt’s former lover was sentenced to life imprisonment today for her brutal murder. The judge described Richard Bell as a monster.
A jury took just six and a half hours to decide that Bell, 32, was guilty of beating his former lover to death. The married father of two showed no emotion as Mr Justice Thurley told him, ‘You were once intimately involved with the victim of this terrible crime but when she threatened to expose the sordid affair to your wife, you decided to rid yourself of her in the most callous manner imaginable.’
Bell was told he would serve a minimum of 24 years. His wife Annie Bell, who proclaimed his innocence and stood by him throughout the trial, wept openly as Bell was led from the court room.
OCTOBER 24, 1993
MY SAUCY ROMPS ON LOVE BOAT WITH TRAGIC REBECCA
The best friend of murder victim, Rebecca Holt, lifts the lid today on their bawdy years together on board a cruise ship nicknamed the ‘love boat’. Nicole Andrews has revealed all about her life at sea during two uninhibited, fun-filled years singing professionally for wealthy passengers, including Rebecca’s future husband.
In an exclusive interview, Naughty Nicole confessed the girls, then in their mid-twenties, often drank too much following their twice-nightly shows, then slept with fellow crew members or wealthy passengers.
‘There was a new set of passengers every week so there were always plenty of opportunities,’ admitted Nicole. ‘We just wanted to have a good time. The passengers were loaded so we’d get them to buy us drinks after a show.’ Nicole admitted one thing would often lead to another. ‘We would regularly wake up next to a stranger but I don’t regret a thing.’
Naughty Nicole revealed that
• Sleeping with strangers was considered normal on a cruise ship nicknamed ‘the love boat’ by its young and crazy crew.
• Raunchy Rebecca regularly sunbathed topless on the upper deck in full view of passengers and crew because she ‘hated tan lines’.
• When Rebecca met millionaire businessman Freddie Holt she told Nicole, ‘He’s my passport out of here!’
‘Only a handful of guests attended Rebecca’s wedding, including some of her friends from the boat,’ explained Nicole. She said they were astonished by the contrast between the bride and groom, cruelly dubbing them ‘Beauty and the Beast’. ‘Freddie is old, fat and bald,’ she explained, ‘and Rebecca was so beautiful. We all said it was only a matter of time before she began to look elsewhere.’ The two women rarely saw each other after the wedding, because they were ‘moving in different worlds’ by then, but Nicole will always remember her best friend.
Nicole left the cruise ship last year in a row over pay. Currently unemployed, she has no regrets about her wild youth but is ‘glad to be out of that world now’. She wells up when talking about her former friend. ‘I was jealous of her money and new designer clothes. For a while I wished it was me but then I might have been the one who was murdered. It just proves that you should be careful what you wish for.’
Chapter Six
‘Okay, what have you got for me?’ asked her editor. Helen placed the large black and white photograph on the table in front of him.
Graham Seaton regarded it for a second. ‘Whoa! Where did you get this?’ he said, looking at her with something resembling amazement. ‘And how did you get this?’ Helen did not reveal her source was an anonymous note but admitted borrowing the little camera and managing a handful of shots at the restaurant before being spotted. ‘And is this who I think it is?’
‘From left to right,’ she began, ‘Alan Camfield, boss of Camfield Offshore, Councillor Joe Lynch and Jimmy McCree.’
‘Who needs no introduction,’ he said of the latter. ‘And just why would these three fine fellows be sitting down to a cosy lunch together?’
‘It’s got to be the Riverside development.’
Her editor knew all about the region’s biggest property deal, involving acres of pr
ime, council-owned, former ship-building land on the banks of the Tyne, currently up for grabs via a tender. ‘The councillor has no business sitting down to a cosy lunch with one of the bidders – and that’s even before you throw in the inexplicable presence of Jimmy McCree. The man’s a gangster and a very scary one. How the hell did they think they’d get away with this?’ he mused.
‘They weren’t expecting a journalist,’ she reminded him. ‘Not everyone in the restaurant spotted McCree. I’d be willing to bet hardly any of them recognised Camfield or Lynch. We live in a bubble.’ Helen meant that public awareness of politicians was staggeringly low. Most people could not even name their local MP.
‘Jimmy must be offering up his security firm,’ said Graham. ‘He’s supposed to be going straight these days but the boys in blue aren’t having that.’
‘So how are we going to run this story?’
Behind Dead Eyes Page 3
