by Bill Kitson
‘Our theory is that Long was used to entice Gerry to the Tyne Bridge, which would result in him being dumped in the river. However, Carl overdid the acting, and when he accepted the loan of Gerry’s jacket, that was enough to signal to the attackers that the wearer was Gerry. A classic case of hoist with your own petard,’ Eve explained.
Everyone seemed to agree with her on that point so I asked, ‘What can you tell us about the others who left the group? Tony Kendall, Robbie Roberts, and Wayne Barnett.’
Crowther gestured to Pattison to take over. ‘You tell them about Barnett,’ he growled.
‘Wayne Barnett played keyboard, guitar, and sang. He was competent both as a musician and a singer, but nothing special. Nobody could tell him that though. He thought he was an all-round maestro, but his was a minority opinion – a minority of one, I’d say. When I told him Gerry wanted him out of Northern Lights, Wayne went ballistic. He damned near wrecked my office, then tried to sue everyone. Finally, he went on the rampage at one of the group’s gigs. He’s working as a session musician, picking up jobs where he can. He’s even worked on some tracks for me. I’ve seen him at the recording studio regularly. I would say though, if anyone had a serious grudge against Gerry, it was Barnett.’
‘Robbie Roberts, by contrast, seems to have done all right for himself, by what we read,’ Eve said.
Pattison nodded. ‘Robbie once told me the best thing that happened to him was when Gerry sacked him. Once he’d left Northern Lights he started Music Magic, a magazine devoted to pop and rock. As you probably know it’s still highly successful, a publication no serious pop fan would be without. Robbie also moved into property and made a huge amount of money. He now lives overseas and only visits the UK occasionally.’
‘That would seem to rule him out,’ I agreed. ‘Which leaves us with Tony Kendall. We went to the address you gave us in Newcastle, but the house had been demolished. All there was were some fields.’
Pattison shrugged. ‘I have no idea what happened to him. Tony was always a wheeler-dealer with an eye to making a profit, no matter how small. I once had words with him because I caught him selling off complimentary tickets for a charity concert and pocketing the money. I wouldn’t have minded so much had the money not been intended for the charity.’
‘Lew’s right,’ Crowther added, ‘Kendall was a fairly good musician, but his heart wasn’t in it. He was only in it to earn a bit of extra cash – and for the girls.’
‘We’ve got a bit more in the way of information, but I’m still not convinced we’ve heard anything that might suggest a motive for harming Gerry.’
Pattison disagreed with me. ‘Apart from Barnett,’ he said. ‘You haven’t had to deal with him; I have. Wayne Barnett is a good session man but he has a mean, vindictive streak, and I don’t think you should look beyond him. I reckon you should go to this detective, Hardy, did you say his name was?’ I nodded. ‘Go to him and lay the facts in front of him and let him take it from there.’
‘I agree with you,’ Eve said, ‘but I know Adam has his doubts.’
Looking around the table I could see the others were of a similar mind to Eve and Lew. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m not discounting Barnett. It might well be him behind it, but I have this feeling that there’s something we’re still unaware of. Something that would give a far stronger motive than just revenge.’
‘I think you ought to spend some time in the public gallery of the criminal courts,’ Alice said. ‘You’d soon realize that violent crimes can be committed for the most trivial of reasons.’
It was obvious that I was outnumbered, and for a moment thought I was alone in my thinking. Help came from a most unexpected source.
‘May I say something?’ Charlie asked, his tone diffident. He went bright red as everyone turned to stare at him. It must have taken considerable courage for a youngster to intrude in such a deep discussion. ‘I don’t know if I’m being silly, or if I’ve missed the point, but I agree with Adam.’
‘And why might that be? Have you anything to back up that statement?’ Lew’s tone, if not patronising, was certainly far from encouraging.
‘I read the papers you sent, Mr Pattison, especially the notes about this man Wayne Barnett. And if remember right, he tried to sue everyone, yes?’
Pattison nodded, and Charlie continued, ‘That would have meant a lot of publicity, wouldn’t it?’ Pattison nodded again, and I could see he was both baffled and intrigued by where Charlie’s reasoning was leading. ‘Then Barnett took a sledgehammer to the group’s bus, broke a roadie’s jaw and tried to strangle Mr Crowther. Have I got that right?’
‘You have, absolutely right, and that proves my case entirely.’ Pattison turned away, dismissing Charlie.
He’d reckoned without Charlie’s determination.
‘Actually, you’re wrong, totally wrong. What I’ve just said completely disproves your theory.’
Pattison glared at Charlie, and I could sense he was about to make some cutting comment about young whippersnappers contradicting their elders.
‘Why do you say that, Charlie?’ I intervened hastily.
Charlie took a leaf from his aunt’s book, by enumerating his points on his fingers. ‘He tried to sue six individual members of Northern Lights, plus the group as a whole. That’s seven legal actions, in full glare of publicity, involving famous people. An assault, GBH, and criminal damage, all conducted in the open, with no attempt to disguise who did it. All those were hot-blooded, open actions. Nothing in the least bit secretive. That’s totally different to the attempts on Mr Crowther and the murders recently. They were furtive, with no trace of who was behind the campaign.’
Charlie stopped there, still red in the face with embarrassment at being thrust under such close scrutiny. The long silence was broken eventually by Alice Pattison, who turned to her husband and told him, ‘You owe this young man a big apology, Lew. Charlie is absolutely correct, and the rest of us couldn’t see it.’ She turned to Charlie and smiled. ‘That was an exceptionally well-thought through and reasoned summary, Charlie. If you wish to consider a career in law, I would be happy to stand sponsor for you.’
Charlie’s scarlet complexion deepened even further. Whether that was due to Alice’s praise, or Trudi’s admiring glance, I wasn’t sure. Pattison, to give him his due, reached across and shook Charlie’s hand. ‘I’m sorry, Charlie, that should teach me a lesson. I ought never to pre-judge an issue without taking on board everyone’s opinion.’ He looked round the table. ‘I suppose that rules Barnett out as a suspect, does it?’
‘Not necessarily,’ I told him, ‘but what it does is to rule others in. Which I suppose means we’re little further forward than when we began. In fact,’ I added, hoping to end on a cheerful note, ‘we ought also to bear in mind that the perpetrator could be someone totally unconnected with Northern Lights, someone we haven’t even considered yet.’
The glum faces around the table told me I hadn’t lost my innate skill for cheering people up.
‘Where do we go from here?’ Eve asked later. The Crowther family, as I had begun to think of them, had departed by taxi, and we were having a nightcap.
‘Do you mean physically, or with the investigation?’
‘Both, I suppose.’
‘I don’t think we can do much more to find out who tried to harm Gerry. I suggest we leave the rest to the police.’ I shrugged in defeat.
‘I think Adam’s right,’ Alice said. As she was speaking I saw Eve staring at me, a curious expression on her face. ‘You’ve done everything Lew asked of you, and more besides. Let the professionals handle the murder enquiries. Besides which, if young Charlie’s right,’ Alice smiled at him, ‘there’s nothing you can do without first discovering the motive.’
‘Hah!’ Eve invested the single word with as much sarcasm as possible. ‘It’s easy to tell you don’t know Adam Bailey like I do. I don’t believe that rubbish he spouted about leaving it to the police. It simply isn’t in his nature. He u
sed to be paid to lift stones and see what crawled out. That leopard hasn’t changed its spots.’
‘Either way, I think we would be better off back at Eden House,’ I suggested. ‘I think we should return home tomorrow.’
The only one who seemed disappointed by my proposal was Charlie, and we all knew the reason for that. ‘Look on the bright side;’ I told him, ‘she’ll soon be a neighbour, more or less.’
If that cheered him, it wasn’t immediately obvious.
Before leaving the capital, I phoned Harvey Jackson. ‘Are you alone?’ I asked.
‘Yes, why?’ His tone was cautious, apprehensive. In view of what we’d discussed the previous day that was hardly surprising.
‘I need you to cast your mind back. You mentioned that Billy was concerned about something. Can you remember whether he knew about Crowther’s body being recovered from the Tyne?’
‘Yes, he did, and it really upset him.’
‘Did he say anything about it?’
‘Not very much. He kept saying “something isn’t right”, but what he was referring to, I’ve no idea.’
‘Thank you, Harvey, you’ve been a great help.’
I could tell by his puzzled tone of voice that he couldn’t understand how he’d helped. I put the phone down and told Eve what I’d just learned. She thought for a moment, ‘That means Quinn knew or suspected that it wasn’t Gerry’s body. And if he started asking questions of the wrong people …’
Chapter Fifteen
I’d only been to London a dozen or so times since I retired from TV journalism, and each visit left me less and less bothered if I never had to go there again. Nevertheless, I was surprised to hear Eve echo my sentiments after we had retrieved the car from the long-stay car park at York railway station. As we headed back towards the Dales, Eve stared at the countryside. ‘Gosh, it’s good to be back,’ she exclaimed.
She saw my surprised expression and chuckled. ‘How can you compare those crowded, noisy, grimy streets with the peace and quiet, and the glorious scenery we’re treated to every day?’ She gestured to her left. ‘Where can you find something in London to match that?’
It was easy to see her point. The dale glistened in the warm sunshine, the crops in the fields on the lower slopes gradually turning from green to gold, while on the higher reaches, the heather was beginning to come into bloom, giving a purple tinge to the dark, peaty majesty of the moorland.
‘I take your point, but I was a little surprised that you feel as strongly as that.’
‘I think you have to love where you live, or move,’ she said, ‘but it isn’t hard to love this landscape.’
‘What you mean, Aunt Evie, is that this is now your home, and you’re more content here than anywhere else,’ Charlie commented.
‘That’s very true. You’re getting to be extremely perceptive, Charlie.’
‘Perceptive and deceptive,’ I muttered, but fortunately, Eve didn’t hear me, or so I thought. I’d seen Charlie and Trudi exchanging pieces of paper the previous day. When I quizzed him about it, Charlie admitted that they contained phone numbers. ‘I gave her yours and the one at Mulgrave Castle,’ he told me, ‘and Trudi gave me the number of the London flat.’ Charlie gave me a grin that was a mixture of triumph and apprehension.
‘She won’t be living there much longer,’ I pointed out, a trifle cruelly, perhaps.
‘No, but she’s promised to let me have the Allerscar number as soon as they have the line connected at Lovely Cottage.’ He paused and looked at me, a worried frown on his face. ‘You won’t tell Aunt Evie, will you? She might not approve. You know what she’s like.’
I tried not to smile. ‘OK, as long as you promise to behave yourself.’
‘Adam!’ His shocked expression reassured me more than his subsequent denial.
I didn’t sigh with relief when we reached Eden House, although it was tempting. Perhaps it’s as well I didn’t, but then counting chickens before they’re hatched has never been one of my favourite occupations. From the outside, everything appeared normal, exactly as we had left it. Normality ended once I opened the front door. I stood aside to allow Eve and Charlie to precede me indoors, but Eve stopped dead on the threshold, an expression of shock mingled with horror on her face.
‘Adam, look! We’ve been burgled. Someone has broken in and … oh, no!’
I looked at where she was pointing. The photos that had hung in the hallway and the corridor leading to the rooms at the back of the house were no longer on the walls. They were strewn about the carpet, the glass smashed into fragments, the frames broken, the images torn to shreds. It was wilful, wanton vandalism.
The story was much the same in the lounge, the dining room, and the study. The latter had been locked, but that had seemingly not presented much of a deterrent to the intruder, who it appeared had not bothered with finesse. The door frame was splintered, and the marks of a jemmy or crowbar were clearly visible in the chipped paintwork. The trail of damage inside covered the carpet. The notes Pattison had sent us seemed to have borne the brunt of the attack; their only use now being as confetti.
‘Try not to touch anything. I’m going to phone Johnny Pickersgill.’
I went along the corridor, but almost immediately retraced my steps to where Eve and Charlie were standing in moody silence. ‘I’m not going to phone Johnny,’ I explained. ‘The bastard has cut the phone line.’
‘What should we do?’ Charlie asked.
‘The only thing we can do is get in the car and drive across to the police house.’
For our second return to Eden House we were accompanied by our friend and village bobby. A measure of Johnny’s devotion to duty was that he abandoned a mug of tea he had barely touched in order to visit the crime scene. He prowled round the house, careful to avoid touching anything that might possibly be construed as evidence, as we waited for the fingerprint officers he had summoned from Dinsdale HQ, plus Inspector Hardy.
‘It looks as if someone doesn’t like you very much,’ he murmured as he examined the worst of the damage. I wondered if he was considering entering that sentence for the understatement of the year competition. ‘What’s more,’ he continued, ‘this wasn’t a five minute, in and out job. Whoever did this took their time over it, and was determined to cause you as much inconvenience and distress as possible, safe in the knowledge that they would not be interrupted. Which means –’
‘That they knew we were away.’ I finished his sentence for him.
‘Exactly, and that leads to another interesting question. Who knew about your trip to London? Either before you went, or while you were away?’
‘Around here, apart from Gerry Crowther, his fiancée and daughter, the only person we told was Henry Price.’
‘I can’t somehow picture Henry doing this because you’ve failed to pay his milk bill, can you?’
Despite our distress, Pickersgill’s suggestion made Eve smile. ‘At a guess, I’d say it might have something to do with what you’ve been up to recently,’ Pickersgill continued.
‘He’s right,’ Charlie appeared from the study. ‘Come and look at this.’
We followed him into the room, treading carefully on the few patches of carpet that were free from debris. The large gilt-framed mirror on the side was remained in place, undamaged. The reason for that was plain. A message was scrawled across it, using Eve’s lipstick, I guessed. It read, ‘MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS YOU NOSEY BASTARDS’.
‘That’s my best lippie,’ Eve muttered, seemingly more upset by that than the message itself.
I turned and stared at the desk. The intruder had taken a heavy object, possibly a large hammer, to it, and to my electric typewriter. The splintered remains of a couple of the drawers were of little use except as kindling, and I knew that I had made my last typo on the faithful machine. I said as much, and as I glanced down at the carpet, added, ‘I hope the typist in Lew’s office kept a carbon copy of those notes, because if not, and if we need them again, someone is go
ing to have a lot of work to do.’
My comment was light-hearted, but I saw Eve’s expression. I stared at her, but she refrained from commenting. This was unusual for Eve, and I wondered what she was thinking, but seeing me look at her, she shook her head. Whatever her thought was, she wasn’t prepared to share it at that time.
‘Let’s check the lounge,’ she suggested instead.
‘It isn’t a pretty sight,’ Pickersgill warned.
‘Where is?’ Eve muttered.
‘Is this upsetting for you?’ he asked.
‘Not half as upsetting as it will be for whoever did this if I get them within arm’s reach,’ Eve said, savagely. ‘I’d throttle the life out of them, given the chance.’
‘That’s odd, I thought a knife was your weapon of choice.’
‘Oi! Any more remarks like that and I won’t put the kettle on.’
As Pickersgill had warned us, the lounge was a mess. At first glance, it looked as if there had been a blizzard raging in the room. The carpet was barely visible beneath what appeared to be a heavy fall of snow. The source was the lounge suite. All the cushions that formed the seats and backs of the sofa and easy chairs had been gutted, the filling scattered around to give an effect many a Hollywood set designer would have been proud of. The small nest of tables had been smashed almost beyond recognition. More kindling, I thought. In the corner of the room, the television set had been given similar treatment to my desk and typewriter, the screen little more than a few jagged edges of glass framing a gaping hole.
‘There is hatred in all this,’ Eve murmured, ‘cold-blooded, implacable hatred.’
I thought of the message scrawled on the mirror. ‘Perhaps not, maybe it’s only designed to look that way. Perhaps this is merely a device designed to distract us or warn us off.’
‘If that’s so, it hasn’t worked,’ Eve growled.
Seeing the look of grim determination on her face, I pitied whoever was responsible if she ever got near them.
The kitchen had escaped the attention of the intruder. It was difficult to judge whether Eve or Pickersgill was more relieved, especially on discovering that the kettle appeared undamaged. ‘This appears to be the point of entry,’ he gestured to the back door, and was about to approach it when Eve stopped him.
