The Irish Connection

by Norma Hanton

  Screaming like a banshee, the spittle hitting his face, she grabbed him by the hair and dragged him across the floor until she was able to reach the door to the cellar. Light flooded the cold, bare, cellar room and he finally focussed onto feverish blue eyes filled with hate.

  “How dare you enter my house, how dare you,” she screamed, kneeling over his body banging his head off the concrete floor. “You’ve picked the wrong house to burgle, arsehole, and the wrong woman to rape. You’ll die for this, I assure you, you’ll never leave here alive.

  “I’m a police officer,” yelled Seamus, “there are others outside. You’ll not get away this time.”

  At this sudden declaration she went silent; the room filled only with the sound of heavy breathing, the screaming had stopped. At this interlude Seamus gave a mighty heave, pushed her away and leapt to his feet. Quickly he threw an old chair at her as he shouted for help.

  Chapter Thirty Five

  O’Conner’s amazing driving skills were put to the test as the car hurtled around the twist and turns of the narrow country lanes. The two other vehicles following them were left chasing their smoke. Cotton’s only hope was that they would get there in time He felt certain that his impetuous friend had put himself in danger and would try to take the woman into custody on his own.

  “Goddammit, O’Conner, get a move on. Doyle’s there alone. God knows what’s happening.”

  “I’m doing my best, guv, you wouldn’t want to arrive there dead, now would you?” O’Conner smiled, as he grinned into the rear view mirror.

  “Very funny, now get the bloody foot down.”

  Cotton felt the fear growing inside him.

  The car sped down the narrow lane and before Cotton could cry out O’Conner realised that he had passed the track leading to the cottage. Applying the brakes with obvious skill he reversed and turned right. They parked the car and the two men leapt out and ran to the cottage. A soft light shone from a window yet the silence was eerie and unnerving. They reached the front door which stood ajar; Cotton whispered orders to the men arriving,

  “You four round the back, you two with me.”

  They entered with Cotton leading the way and when all seemed quiet they began calling Doyle’s name but there was no answering call. Two men rushed in through the kitchen and soon found Seamus Doyle lying on the cellar floor. They saw in the lamplight a steady stream of blood that had oozed from a horrific head injury. They ran to his side. An axe lay close by.

  “What’s happening down there? Is he dead?” Cotton pushed a constable aside.

  Bending over their stricken colleague they all heard a shuffling movement from the living room.

  Putting a finger to his lips Cotton signalled to O’Conner to go to the other side of an armchair that had been placed at an angle across a corner near the window. Other officers were guarding the doors. As they crept closer Cotton and O’Conner heard a soft sigh emanate from the corner seconds before a hissing - spitting being hurled itself at Cotton.

  Claws raked down his cheek, reaching for his eyes, as Angela Mitchell screamed out her hatred. A large knife glistened in the light. O’Conner reacted quickly, throwing a right hook into the contorted, evil face. Angela shrieked with pain as it hit her squarely on the nose. She stopped and raised a hand to her face. Cotton launched himself at her and brought her, kicking and screaming, to the floor where O’Conner removed the weapon from her hand.

  The room became crowded as the other officers rushed in; their bodies filling the small room wall to wall. Holding her firmly until the handcuffs were in place O’Conner and Cotton were taken by surprise when the screaming abuse stopped suddenly, as if a switch had been thrown. They leapt to their feet as the voice of Agatha Moorhead filled the room.

  “Why, Inspector Cotton! How nice to see you again. I’d offer you a nice cup of tea but I’m a little busy at the moment. It’s lucky you came, I have an intruder as you can see for yourself,” she pointed her joined hands at the cellar door, he’s down there. He had the nerve to read my private papers, and was going through my private things.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “Do you know, Inspector, he was actually going to read my personal diary? Can you believe that?”

  Cotton pulled her to her feet and whispered in her ear,

  “Why don’t I take it for safekeeping?”

  “Why, Mr Cotton, what a wonderful idea.” She smiled broadly.

  “If there’s anything else you’d like me to look after,” Cotton ventured, “just say the word.”

  O’Conner smiled to himself,

  ‘Nice one, sir’, he thought, ‘very crafty’.

  Angela leant toward Cotton,

  “Try looking under the bird table in the garden, you may want to look after that for me as well.” She replied, as she began to laugh, a high pitched, shrieking, uncontrolled, hysterical laugh.

  The men in the room were silent. Goosebumps were raised on their skin.

  Cotton’s calm voice cut through the laughter.

  “Why don’t we let Margaret here take you to the station in my private car? Would you like that?”

  “Such a gentleman,” Angela’s smile seemed almost genuine, “Always a gentleman never a lover.”

  Muttering to herself she was led away by two burly officers.

  Once Angela was safely ensconced in the car Cotton rushed into the cellar. Pushing aside a young officer he felt for a pulse in Doyle’s neck.

  “For God’s sake get an ambulance, don’t just sit the,” he cried.

  “All in hand, sir, now if you’ll just step aside young Devlin here will continue to try and control the bleeding until it gets here.”

  The burly sergeant pulled Cotton to his feet and Devlin returned to his endeavours.

  Chapter Thirty Six

  “Are you sure the doctor said you could get up today, Seamus?”

  “He did that, Mandy my love. He said as you’ve taken the trouble to fly to my side, getting up was the least I could do.”

  “I believe you, if no one else will.”

  “Mandy! I’m shocked. Would I lie to you?”

  “I won’t answer that; I’ll put these flowers in water instead. I’ll be back in a minute.” Mandy laughed and left the room.

  “All I can say is motherhood becomes her,” Seamus smiled at Cotton who sat with his son in his lap, “and fatherhood definitely suits you, if I may say so? Thanks for coming. Do you two plan to get together in the near future? Will James here have a brother or sister to look forward to?”

  “Who knows Seamus, who knows? But I intend to keep right on trying to make it happen,” his face showed sadness, “I’ve been such a fool, haven’t I? I could kick myself. I don’t deserve to be happy ever again.”

  “Don’t whip yourself too hard old friend, you might redeem yourself given time.”

  “I can only wait and see, Seamus. I love her so much, but who could blame her if she never wanted to get it together with an idiot like me.”

  Mandy’s voice made both men jump; they had not heard her return.

  “Never is a long time, Inspector Cotton. I hope it won’t take that long.” She smiled at them. “Don’t look so guilty the pair of you, talking behind my back. Shame on you both.” She winked at Seamus, “Would you like to sit on the veranda? I’ll make you comfortable and then Eddie can regale you with the case you so want to hear about?”

  Cotton handed his son to Mandy, kissing his little furrowed brow. Then he helped Seamus to put on a dressing gown and slippers before walking him slowly out into the summer sunshine.

  “What the hell made her do it, Eddie? What possible thrill could she get from destroying the lives, and faces, of those poor women? Alright, the Mulberry Court two may have been nothing more than up market prostitutes, but they didn’t deserve to die for it.”

  “It had nothing to do with their ‘hobby’, Seamus, it was something from their past, something they were innocent of I’m sad to say. Let’s take it from the beginning, but
don’t get too excited or they’ll have you back in bed so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

  Seamus laughed,

  “O.K, Eddie, I’ll sit here and knit while you tell me all.”

  Mandy appeared with cups of coffee and she and Seamus listened in silence while Cotton relayed the information.

  “We have to go back about thirty years to when Angela married her boss, George Mitchell. She was obsessed by her new power, firstly as a supervisor and then, of course, as the wife of a rich man. She had everything she ever wanted and no one was going to take it away from her.

  By the way - the thing under the bird table – the thing she wanted me to look after? It was the body of a premature baby. It had been placed in a metal container. It was hers. She brought about a miscarriage, she says, because George didn’t want any children. When she found out about George’s affair with Louisa Murphy she couldn’t believe it, it must have turned her already evil mind. She made her plans and followed them through with almost military precision.

  Posing as a sick old woman she tricked her way into the house and asked for a drink. Poor Murphy made her coffee and Mitchell must have caused some distraction and dropped the Morphine into Murphy’s cup. She injected her with the Heroin overdose and sat watching as Louisa slipped into unconsciousness before carrying the body upstairs and placing it in the bath, where she did her evil work. Then she covered the bed Murphy and George had shared, with pure white sheeting, and laid out the body dressed in the bridal dress Louisa had made for her marriage to George.

  Not content with killing Murphy she had spent some time mutilating her face. She then began cleaning the house from top to bottom, after putting the corpse on display on the bed for George to find. Just think how he must have felt. He probably knew who had done it in an instance. No wonder he had a heart attack.”

  “That poor man,” Mandy said softly, “What did he do to deserve that horrid woman?”

  Eddie took Mandy’s hand in his.

  “After George’s insurance paid up and all monies from the business were paid into her account Agatha began to settle down. Then she found the letters and photographs – George and Murphy had, had a child.

  As Agatha, she’d lived close by until the apartment, below the place where she thought the girl had been hidden by Patrick Donovan, became vacant.

  The happy couple had decided, just the day before George left to see to his mother’s estate, to admit their affair and inform Angela that he wanted a divorce so they could marry.

  He knew her well enough to know that their child’s life could be in constant danger once Angela found out so they sent her to England, with Patrick Donovan and Dawn Peters as her guardians, to keep her safe till they could join her and become a real family.”

  Mandy wiped away a tear with her hand and sighed.

  “So Angela aka Agatha had bided her time and killed both the girls, but how?” Seamus asked, “And surely the child would be too young for prostitution, wouldn’t she?”

  “The girl was eight when Donovan and Peters took her to England. Caroline Johnston was seventeen when she died and was still virgo intactie.”

  “What! But that odious old man said they were on the game. I don’t get it.” Seamus tried to get up but a nurse appeared at his shout and he held up his hand and smiled. “Alright, I’m calm. Look, I’m all relaxed.”

  “It was all a bluff, he just wanted to shock us and upset his daughter. I personally think now that his tale about his dead wife being raped was nothing but a pack of lies. He just wanted to shock us all, and he certainly did that.

  The two girls probably ended up with separate apartments so Dawn Peters could keep Caroline close to her, but away from Nathaniel‘s eyes. This is all conjecture of course as there is no one alive to confirm it.

  Judging by the letters and what not in Ivy Cottage Nathaniel’s affair with Dawn had lasted for years. Even when Ann Bells mother was alive. He was into the more ‘unusual’ aspects of sex, according to Dawn’s diary, but she truly loved the evil man.

  Still, he’s dead now. Ann never turned up at the funeral by the way. Broom and I went mostly out of sheer curiosity.

  Dawn’s mother came, but that turned out to be just to spit on his coffin, Jackson–Brown, and the strange ‘butler’ were there too. How that doctor could look after that odious man, knowing that he beat his wife senseless, and that he could have pushed her to her death, is beyond me.

  We then went to see Ann at her office so I could make my apology for suspecting her, and to give her my condolences, but, before I could speak, she held up a hand to stop me.

  ‘Don’t say a word, Inspector Cotton, it’s all over with now and all I want to do is sell up the business and move somewhere ‘exciting’. I feel quite light headed with all this new freedom and I’m going to make the move before I change my mind and chicken out. Then I’ll be stuck in the same old rut of running this place for the rest of my life, and he would have won. He left it to me you know, despite all his threats, but that’s all he left to me. All the estate, paintings, furniture, and all other monies remaining go to, you’ll never guess so I’ll tell you. Mathews. As you can imagine I nearly fell over with shock.”

  “Mathews,” Seamus shouted before clapping a hand over his mouth.

  “That’s what she said, and that’s what I found at the solicitors. Simon, Dario Mathews gets all the rest of the estate for being a loyal, devoted, employee. Not to mention Nathaniel’s ‘other’ sex preference.”

  “My God, that man was sick, sick, sick” said Mandy. “Oh that poor girl”

  “Anyway, back to the deaths. As far as we can make out Angela rented apartment one and waited for her opportunity to confront Donovan. She probably became friendly with him and, when he had realised who she was, she’d killed him and kept his body in her chest freezer.

  She searched his apartment and discovered letters and a will, and a written confirmation from Bells Properties that said that on his leaving the girls could move into the apartment.

  Angela then ordered a new pond for the garden in her disguise as Agatha. Once the hole had been dug out, and knowing that no one was in the other apartments, she removed the lining that was lain in readiness of the pool being finished the following day, and buried him in the hole, using?” He looked to Seamus, who looked puzzled for a moment, then shouted,

  “The pram!”

  The nurse left after giving Seamus a last warning.

  Eddie continued.

  “Needless to say she did not bury the keys to his apartment, she had them copied, posting one set through the letter box of the apartment the next day. Then she sat back and waited for the day the girls moved into five, and she waited her time to kill them.

  Both girls drank the coffee, made using milk Angela had doctored on the doorstep of apartment five, and were unconscious before Mitchell got back into the apartment.”

  “So Dawn died just because she would know who would want to kill Caroline?”

  “That’s about it, Seamus. Mitchell/Moorhead had the keys to Dawn’s apartment and had let herself in to dispose of the milk in the fridge with the Morphine in.

  She was pretty sure of herself, going upstairs without being seen. She was laughing about finding both of the women unconscious, two for the price of one, she kept repeating.”

  “What about the young girl in Hawick,” asked Mandy?

  “Well she died for no other reason than she was looking at Mitchell in the café”, Cotton shook his head. “We found a drawing book in her handbag and the waitress is absolutely sure that a woman customer had been in that day wearing the same suit. She remembered Angela because she looked so out of place in the café with her expensive looking clothes.

  The girl’s mother said her daughter loved fashion and would draw what she’d seen and make one up on the old sewing machine. Mitchell thought the girl was watching her because she’d been on TV. It makes my blood boil to think of it”

  “Christ Almighty, Eddie, sh
e’s like some evil spider waiting to trap people in her web. It makes my skin crawl.” Seamus looked pale.

  “Mine too,” said Mandy, “Does that woman have no conscience?”

  “She is not totally insane, Mandy, but no she doesn’t,” Cotton sighed, “All the same she’ll probably get away with it and end her days in some mental institution.”

  “That’s so unfair; she should hang for her horrible deeds.”

  “How did she carry Caroline and Dawn to the bed? They would be no light weight for such a small woman?” Seamus asked, “Or don’t you know yet?”

  “As I said it’s all mainly conjecture, we’ll never know the real facts,” Cotton looked at Seamus, “Are you sure you wouldn’t be better off in bed, you’re looking a bit pale?”

  “I’m fine, don’t stop now or I’ll thump you.” Seamus laughed, “I’ve waited years to find Louisa’s killer and I’ll rest only when we lock her up forever.”

  Just then the nurse entered and told Eddie he was wanted on the telephone - it was urgent

  Seamus groaned. “He’ll be called away, Mandy, and we’ll never get to the end of it”

  He was right.

  Sergeant Broom’s voice barely covered his excitement.

  “I think you’d better get here fast, sir, you’re not going to believe what WPC Watson has turned up. She’s like a bloodhound that one.”

  Cotton rushed back to Doyle’s bedside, kissed Mandy’s cheek, kissed his sleeping son and looked at a very frustrated Doyle.

  “They want me back - tonight. Sorry, but rest assured I’ll be back as soon as I can to tell you all, I promise”

  “You’d better be, my friend, or I’ll be forced to get Mandy here to help me seek you out in a wheelchair.”

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  Once more in his own office Cotton was listening to Broom.

  “It’s Bell, sir. You’re never going to believe this but you were right to be suspicious of her. She’s not the innocent she makes out to be.”