by Bill Kitson
‘If it wasn’t drink or drugs, why did you leave like that? Were you afraid of the responsibility of parenthood?’ Is that why you ran away?’
Crowther winced, recognizing the judgemental tone in Eve’s voice, but his reply took the wind out of her sails, and shocked all of us to silence. ‘No, I wasn’t afraid of becoming a father. In fact I’d been looking forward to it from the minute Sheila told me she was pregnant. I left because I was afraid for my life, but even more so for the lives of Sheila and the child she was carrying.’
His statement left us dumbfounded. After a few seconds, I looked at Eve, and then at Charlie. Both of them were staring at Crowther, open-mouthed. It made me wonder what my own expression was like. Eventually, I managed to ask, ‘Can you explain?’
For a long moment I thought Crowther would not respond. As I waited, I thought of the precautions he took to maintain his privacy. Adding together the secluded position of the house, the shotgun, the fear in his eyes, and suddenly, Pete Firth’s story made sense. ‘Are you referring to those accidents you had?’
Crowther’s expression became even grimmer, if that was possible. ‘They weren’t accidents. They were deliberate attempts on my life. Someone tried to kill me. Five times, to be exact. It was only sheer luck that they didn’t succeed.’ He paused and frowned. ‘How did you find out about them? Who told you?’
‘Pete Firth,’ I replied, ‘he thought it would make an interesting chapter in the book I’m supposed to be writing. He only mentioned four incidents, though. The keyboard that almost electrocuted you, the girder that nearly brained you, the time you were mugged, and the car crash. I make that four times.’
‘There were a couple of other things that happened, ones that no one else knew about. One of them was seemingly trivial, and had little to do with an attempt on my life, or so I thought at the time. The group had been playing a gig in Chester, and Lew had booked us into a hotel near there overnight.’ Crowther smiled. ‘It was in the days before pop groups gained a reputation for bad behaviour. I’d booked another room for Sheila. I didn’t want her exposed to the sort of publicity some musicians’ girlfriends were getting in the press. Naturally, I spent the night with her. When I went back to my own room next morning it had been broken into, and the briefcase that I kept all my sheet music in had been stolen. A lot of it was stuff I was working on, and much of it was unpublished; there was a lot of good material in there. It was an annoyance rather than anything else, because the originals were back at my flat in Leeds.’
‘Why do you think it might be connected to the other events?’ Eve asked.
‘I didn’t to begin with, but the person who broke in left a message for me. On the bed was a turnip with a kitchen knife driven through it. The turnip was on the pillow, just where my head would have been had I been occupying that room. I thought it was nothing more than the thief’s sick sense of humour, until the other stuff started happening. Apart from that, there was another, far scarier incident that nobody else knew about. Like the break-in, I dismissed it, and for a long time I thought it was no more than someone’s careless driving. I was almost knocked down crossing the road by a van that failed to stop.’
‘That’s an unfortunate chain of events,’ Eve interrupted, ‘but there’s no reason to believe they were anything other than accidents, surely?’
‘No, I agree, but then the person responsible wrote to me to tell me they weren’t accidents,’ Crowther replied. ‘They also warned me that they weren’t going to give up until I was dead, which was no more than I deserved. They accompanied their warning with a string of abuse, calling me all the names under the sun and blaming me for unspecified crimes. To begin with, I dismissed the letters as the work of a crank. There are a load of nutters out there and when you’re in the spotlight they’re like moths to a flame. But when they referred to the things that had happened to me; things that only someone responsible would know, I began to take them much more seriously.’
‘Why didn’t you go to the police, or get protection?’
‘I didn’t reckon the police would be too interested, not to begin with, anyway. By the time I thought of doing that, they’d moved on to threaten Sheila, and I knew I couldn’t take the risk. I might have done if it had been only me, but I couldn’t endanger Sheila. They said they knew she was a slut and a whore because only a woman such as that would consort with the likes of me. Therefore, they’d decided that she should die too. They told me they would do her first so I could suffer the loss, and then deal with me. That was the last straw. Because they knew so much about me, I dare not talk to anyone else about the attacks, or what I planned to do.’
‘Except Neville Wade,’ I suggested.
‘Yes, except for Neville.’
‘How did you know you could trust him?’
‘Because Neville saved my life. Not once, but twice. He pulled the plug on the keyboard just in time to prevent me dying from the electric shock, and he saw the girder come loose from the crane and pushed me out of the way.’
‘Have you any idea who might have been behind the threats? Who hated you enough to want to kill you and those closest to you?’
‘Not a clue. Don’t think I haven’t asked myself that question over and over again. Every single day, to be precise.’
‘When you said they called you a load of names, was there a hint in them of what might have sparked their vendetta?’
‘Not really, as I recall, the terms were “a thieving, murdering bastard” or something similar.’
‘And you’ve no idea what that might refer to?’
‘That’s another question I ask on a regular basis. And come up with the same answer. I have absolutely no idea.’
From out of nowhere, a vision came into my mind. It was of a young girl, standing by the river in Newcastle late one winter’s night, and of what she thought she’d seen there. ‘We spoke to Julie Solanki. She’s Julie Firth now, married Pete. The night you vanished, she was collecting a packet of drugs for Pete from a dealer.’
Crowther smiled faintly. ‘I remember that. I’d just been to the bank to get Carl’s money when the guy stopped me and gave me the message for Pete. What about it?’
‘When we spoke to Julie, she said she’d seen you after the gig, whilst she was waiting for the dealer to arrive. She said you were heading for the Tyne Bridge, and that you saw her, but didn’t acknowledge her. She also said you were being followed by two people she reckoned were acting furtively, sticking to the shadows, taking care not to get too close to you.’
‘I don’t recall seeing Julie that night. There was nobody by the river where she was supposed to meet that dealer when I went past.’
‘Of course you don’t, because it wasn’t you that Julie saw, it was Carl Long. Julie said that she recognized you by your Buddy Holly jacket. But if you gave that to Long before the concert, her identification of you is totally wrong.’
‘I get that, but what’s your point?’
‘I believe the reason that Carl Long didn’t keep his meeting with you is because he was already dead. I think the two men Julie saw made the same mistake as she did. I believe they saw the jacket and assumed the wearer had to be you. There was a strong likeness between you and Long. I think they followed him to the bridge and either knocked him unconscious or killed him outright, then threw him into the river. They wouldn’t bother to check for identification. It might have been late at night, but at any moment someone might have come along and disturbed them.’
I thought for a moment. ‘How did they fix the car crash? That can’t have been easy. I assume they claimed the credit for it, if credit’s the right word.’
‘I paid for an engineer’s report after the car was recovered. Both the brakes and the steering had been tampered with. I lived in Leeds at the time, and my flat didn’t come with a garage, just a parking space round the back, so when I was away playing a gig or on tour, the car was parked outside. It would have been easy. According to the engineer, what had been do
ne would have taken no more than a quarter of an hour for someone with sufficient knowledge and the right tools.’
‘I don’t suppose you kept a copy of that report, did you?’ Eve asked.
‘I did. I kept all the evidence I could collect. I can’t show you it, though. All the paperwork is in my safe deposit box at the bank.’
‘What was the idea of that?’
‘I wasn’t prepared to keep anything here. I was worried in case someone managed to find me – like you did. The whole point was to make the disappearance complete. Leaving anything referring to Gerry Crowther would have been a dead giveaway.’
Crowther went to the Aga and brewed us a drink, which gave us chance to mull over what we’d been told. I looked out of the window at the scene outside the house. ‘I wasn’t aware there was a windmill here,’ I said. ‘I live at Laithbrigg and know the area reasonably well, but I’ve never heard of the mill. Is it working?’
‘It is, and the reason you won’t have heard of it is that it’s only been there a couple of years. It’s taken me a long time to build it, working alone.’
‘You built it?’ Eve was astonished. ‘That must have taken some doing. Have you had previous experience in building?’
‘Not until I bought this place. It was pretty near derelict when I moved here. I learned all sorts of skills’ – Crowther smiled slightly – ‘such as how to electrocute yourself, how to fall off a ladder, hit your fingernail with a hammer; those and many more.’
‘And did you make all these units?’ Eve asked, glancing round the kitchen.
Crowther nodded.
‘Doing this place up must have taken years, and cost a fortune,’ Eve observed.
‘Time and money were things I wasn’t short of,’ he said as he passed Charlie a glass of home-made lemonade, which he said was delicious.
As I thanked him for the tea, one thought at the back of my mind was that, given the obvious strength of Crowther’s feelings for the girl he’d deserted, it seemed out of character to have left her penniless. ‘It must have been a struggle for Sheila over the years, bringing up a child on her own,’ I suggested. Tact has always been one of my stronger points.
Crowther winced. ‘That has been a constant worry for me. Until I saw Trudi on TV I had no idea if Sheila was all right, or if the baby had survived. I didn’t even know if it was a boy or a girl. I did make provision for Sheila, so that she didn’t suffer too much financially, but that’s of very little comfort.’
‘How did you manage to do that, without revealing that you were still alive?’
‘My bank manager arranged it. He has also been very helpful, and knowing that everything I told him was confidential made it easier.’ Crowther smiled again. ‘I think he enjoyed doing it. He seemed to revel in the conspiracy. Apart from that, I am a valued customer. Luckily, I’d never spent much of the money I’d earned, either as a performer or a songwriter, and that meant I was pretty well-off. He wrote to Sheila telling her that before my “death” I’d set up a trust fund for her and the child. He advanced her a lump sum, plus a regular monthly income he said came from the interest on investments and royalties. He also instructed her to contact him if she needed extra funds in case of emergencies.’
Crowther smiled wryly. ‘Sheila’s never taken him up on that offer, neither has she married.’
‘One good thing,’ Eve suggested, ‘after all this time – if you did decide to reappear, it would all be totally different. There surely can’t be any danger now.’
Crowther frowned. ‘I’m not sure about that. Perhaps you’re right, and the danger has long since passed. I do know that I’d like to see Sheila again, if only to apologize, and I’d love to meet Trudi. But I’m not sure if could cope with show business and the limelight again.’
‘If we were able to set up a meeting with Sheila and Trudi, how would you feel about that?’
Crowther looked at Eve, considering her question for some time before responding. ‘In a word, terrified. And excited too, I suppose.’
I was still dwelling on what had happened to cause Crowther to disappear. ‘I don’t suppose you kept those anonymous letters, did you?’
‘I destroyed the first one, but I kept all the others. They’re in the bank.’ He looked at each of us in turn. ‘Does that sound paranoid?’
‘I don’t think so. It isn’t paranoia if someone actually is threatening you. I’d like to take a look at them sometime. I also think you should show them to Sheila if and when you meet up with her. That way she can grasp the potency of the threat, and the sacrifice you made for her and Trudi. I think she would appreciate what a terrible decision you had to make.’
I had been reluctant to raise the subject of Mitchell’s death, but as our talk with Crowther progressed I was increasingly puzzled that he had failed to mention it. I felt sure Wade must have told him. The vet had been shocked by the news, and I couldn’t believe he would have omitted to pass it on.
In the end, I decided to take the bull by the horns. ‘Did Neville Wade tell you what happened to Jimmy Mitchell?’
‘He mentioned that Jimmy had died, no more than that.’
I was a bit flummoxed, and saw Eve staring at me, her expression one of doubt. Either I had to tell him outright or hide the truth. I felt it unfair that he should be denied the full facts when he was making his decision. ‘Mitchell was murdered. We found his body when we went to talk to him.’
Crowther’s face registered a range of emotions: shock, fear, and finally perplexed acceptance. In response to his demand, I told him what had happened, deciding as I did not to pull any punches. Although he was clearly disturbed by the thought that Mitchell’s death might be related to the threats against his life, I sensed that it had not weakened his resolve. Although he was wary about committing to a decision then and there, I felt confident that when he did make his mind up, it would be to proceed with Eve’s idea. I was unsure whether this was down to maturity or paternal desire to meet up with his daughter. Then again, it could be that his feelings for Sheila were still too strong to be resisted any longer.
When we left, it was with the understanding that we would return again in a few days’ time, by which time he would have had chance to mull over our suggestion about meeting up with Sheila. In the meantime we’d elicited a promise from him that he would sign a copyright release form once Lew Pattison had drawn one up. In return, we had given Crowther our word that we would not reveal his whereabouts, even to the impresario.
As soon as we got back to Eden House I told Eve and Charlie there was something I needed to do, and asked them not to disturb me. I went into the study, and in the quiet of the sun-filled room, tried to concentrate on an errant memory. It had been prompted by something Crowther had said that didn’t sound right. I wasn’t sure what was niggling me, but I felt certain he’d contradicted the facts I’d heard, or read. I walked to and fro, glancing occasionally at the stack of folders on my desk. The information was in there, I was certain of that, but I wasn’t about to wade through them again. It was only when I’d ceased trying to remember the facts that I made the connection, but even then the full significance didn’t occur to me.
It’s often said that chance plays an important part in our lives, and this was no exception. Had it not been for a chance intervention, Gerry Crowther would have died that night in Newcastle.
Chapter Nine
Eve and Charlie spent some of their time prior to our return to Allerscar trying to work out how best to find Sheila Bell and inveigle her to the meeting with her erstwhile lover without giving the game away. During that time I mulled over what Crowther had told us, trying to square it with our store of knowledge. I felt sure something wasn’t right, but couldn’t be sure what. Eve noticed my preoccupation and asked what I was thinking about.
‘I was trying to make sense of those attacks on Crowther and the threatening letters he received.’
‘What about them?’
‘He seemed to have accepted them at fa
ce value, convinced that it was someone with a grudge, but I don’t believe it’s as clear-cut as that.’
‘What other motive could there be?’
‘I don’t know, but it seems too obvious, too blatant. Admittedly Crowther made enemies through his reshaping of Northern Lights, and that must have caused huge resentment, but think about it, Evie. The group weren’t that successful before he joined them. It’s not as if Crowther had suggested replacing someone like Paul McCartney or Mick Jagger.’
‘Maybe it was a crazed psychopath after all?’
‘That doesn’t fit either.’
‘Why not?’
‘Consider the careful planning behind several of those incidents. And if we’re right about Mitchell, that doesn’t tally with the insanity theory. It’s more like someone silenced him to prevent him telling us what he knew. Add to what the police said about his house being ransacked, and perhaps Mitchell had evidence of who was behind the campaign against Crowther.’
‘I still can’t see what the motive might have been.’
The problem was, neither could I, and it would only be pure chance that led to us discovering the solution.
After a few days, I suggested one of us ought to phone Pattison and tell him the news. Eve agreed, but told me that she wanted to speak to Pattison’s wife Alice first.
‘Why?’ I asked her, ‘what are you up to?’
‘We thought it would be better to wait until we know what Gerry Crowther had decided before talking to Lew,’ Eve told me.
Her air of innocence didn’t impress me. ‘And the reason for that is …?’
‘It was Charlie’s idea really. He thought if Crowther is willing to meet up with Sheila, we should tell Lew to say that the songwriter would only agree to sign the copyright release once he’d talked with the singer. We could stress to Pattison that the man’s name has to be withheld, or the deal is off.’
‘And Charlie thought that up all on his own?’
‘He did, but it gave me another idea. If I speak to Lew’s wife on the quiet, I can find out when Lew is likely to be unavailable. We could arrange the meeting for when he’s not about. That way Sheila is more likely to accompany Trudi rather than asking Lew to bring her. What do you think?’
