Forgotten Voices

by Jane A. Adams

  ‘Solicitor’s arrived.’ Kendall’s voice broke into his reverie. ‘You want to sit in? Or do the sensible thing and get off home.’

  ‘You mind?’

  ‘No, I’m planning on keeping it short and sweet. I want to establish if she’s got an alibi and give the lady reason to believe we’re watching her. From what you’ve all told me, she’s going to take some wearing down. I’ve handed off the Ray Tailor interview to one of my people.’

  ‘Any particular reason?’

  ‘Keep him off balance, I hope. Mac, the fact that Ray Tailor came to you of his own free will probably means he’s feeling comfortable about you. He sees you as a known quantity, not as a threat. No offence, but I think there’s more to all this than he’s telling us and I want to keep the bugger off balance.’

  ‘You like them for the shooting?’ Mac asked.

  ‘I’ve not ruled them out. But I don’t for one minute think either of them are going to give anything away. Not tonight. So, you may as well clear off home. We’ll keep the pair of them here for a bit, then let them have some thinking time before we bring them in again. Attrition, not a frontal assault, I reckon.’

  ‘Is that just false optimism talking?’

  Kendall laughed. ‘Maybe, who knows? Go home, Mac, you look all in.’

  ‘I’m not arguing with you,’ he said.

  ‘Anyway, Daphne Tailor is still refusing to speak to you and she’s got her solicitor all prepped to complain if she has to, so …’

  It was Mac’s turn to laugh at that. ‘She really doesn’t like me,’ Mac said.

  ‘No, she doesn’t and, Mac, I’m not going to risk losing anything on a technicality.’

  ‘You want me off the case?’

  ‘No, I want you off Daphne Tailor’s radar.’

  THIRTY

  Lydia was surprised to see Vera Courtney alone. She had grown so used to seeing the flower-arranging committee as a single body it was a slight shock to find that they existed separately. She was also surprised to find Vera waiting for her so early in the morning.

  ‘Hello Vera, have you been waiting long? I didn’t expect anyone yet.’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ Vera said. ‘I went for a walk and then I thought I’d come straight here. I want to collect my things if that’s all right?’

  ‘Of course it is. Come on in.’

  Lydia unlocked the double doors and led Vera through to her office. She dropped her coat on to her chair and retrieved the storeroom keys from her desk. ‘Are you OK?’ Lydia asked. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, you look a bit peaky.’

  Vera smiled. ‘I’m just tired, I think, that’s all.’

  Lydia looked concerned, but didn’t press the point. ‘Right, let’s go and find your things, then.’

  Fifteen minutes later, it was very clear that Vera’s mementoes weren’t there. Thinking they’d been misplaced, Lydia went through each box in turn and even searched her office desk but it was obvious that Vera’s possessions had gone.

  Lydia consulted her master list. ‘Ellen put everything on here,’ she said. ‘And where everything was placed. In the second C box. They should be there. I don’t understand it, Vera. I really don’t. I’m so sorry. I’m sure—’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Vera interrupted. ‘It’s not your fault.’

  She turned to go.

  ‘Vera?’

  But Lydia was ignored. Vera headed for the double glass doors and then was gone, leaving Lydia distraught and embarrassed.

  He must have taken them, Vera thought as she drove away. She was certain of it. He’d known what she’d had and he’d got into the storeroom and taken them away. Or maybe even taken them from Ellen. Thinking about it, Vera couldn’t remember if she’d changed her mind about loaning her things before or after Ellen had brought everything to the airfield.

  Ellen had asked her permission to read through the journal and Vera had been oddly pleased to say yes. It had felt good to share something so personal and precious with this young woman she loved so dearly.

  Now she thought about it, she was even more certain that William Trent must have taken her things from Ellen at the farm. And then her Ellen had been killed and, of course, no one would have known about Vera’s little bits and pieces. Well, she wasn’t going to let him get away with it. He couldn’t just think … he couldn’t just do … Vera realized she could hardly see. Tears blinded her and she pulled over on to the verge to wipe her eyes and take back a vestige of control. Had Ellen known? The thought came unbidden and knocked her sideways.

  No, Vera thought. There was no way Ellen would betray her like that. It was him, all him. William Trent.

  Mac had planned to drive over and join Kendall’s morning briefing but Dave Kendall phoned him first thing and saved him a drive.

  ‘Daphne has no real alibi for the day of the shooting. She says she was at home. Ray Tailor thinks he was in Exeter, but has no corroboration. And you asked me to check out Dan Marsden. Carrie Butler says she thinks he left around two but she can’t be sure. He’s given us his CCTV recordings and he was definitely at the warehouse by four fifteen.’

  ‘So, we’re back where we started, aren’t we. Philip Soames is a non-starter, we know nothing about the whereabouts of either Tailor and I’m not sure we needed to know anything about Dan Marsden anyway.’

  ‘He seemed too keen to rule himself out. He’s known to be a womanizer. He knew Ellen and admits to being attracted,’ Mac argued. ‘Which I know means absolutely nothing.’

  ‘Nothing at all,’ Kendall agreed. ‘So, we wait, we keep pushing, we see what cracks.’

  Vera hammered on William Trent’s door but she knew he wasn’t there. At first she had convinced herself that he was just ignoring her but she had circled the cottage, peering in through the windows and there was no sign of the man anywhere. She stood back and yelled up at the bedroom window.

  ‘William Trent, you bastard. Come and face me. Come and admit what you’ve done.’

  She shouted until her lungs burned and her head ached and her limbs felt drained. Vera who never swore, who never raised her voice.

  But in the end, she had to admit defeat. What else could she do? He wasn’t there and short of breaking into the cottage – a thought that appealed for long enough for her to look for a means of breaking the glass in the kitchen window – she had no means of getting inside.

  Finally, she drove away, blinking back the tears and feeling the adrenalin draining away, leaving her exhausted and bereft.

  Rina arrived at the airfield a few minutes after Vera left. She found Lydia in a very distressed state.

  ‘Oh, my dear,’ Rina said. ‘Lydia, it’s not your fault. I don’t believe Vera’s things ever made it to here. I think she left them with Ellen and Ellen … Ellen must have let William Trent take them. Did she say what she had lent to Ellen?’

  ‘Oh, an old diary and some letters and … she said something about a tape recording. But she was really distraught by then, Rina, and wasn’t making much sense. She kept saying that he must have stolen her things. Rina, I don’t know what I should do.’

  ‘Nothing,’ Rina told her. ‘Lydia, there is nothing you can do. And I think I may know where some of Vera’s possessions are. The diary and the letters at least. I think Mac took them from William Trent the other day. I think we can get those back to her at least.’

  ‘Oh, Rina, that would be wonderful. What about the tape?’

  ‘I don’t know anything about that,’ she told Lydia. ‘But I’ll have another word with Mac when I see him next. It might have turned up. And it’s not your fault, Lydia. It’s really not.’

  ‘But people trusted me with their things,’ Lydia said. ‘I feel so guilty, Rina.’

  Gently, Rina hugged her friend. ‘It will be all right,’ she said. ‘We can sort all of this out and make it right with Vera. I’m sure we can.’

  Reluctantly, Lydia nodded. Rina hoped that she was right.

  THIRTY-ONE

  In th
e end it was Mac who ferried Jeb and Megan’s belongings up to York. Diane’s list had been given to Yolanda and she and Frank had gathered possessions together when they both went off duty the day after the funeral.

  Mac, with new questions to put to Diane, loaded up his car and headed north the following day. It was a long drive and a late start meant he crawled through the city just as everyone else wanted to leave and got caught up in a one-way system he found baffling. Driving with the city walls on his left, he looped around St John’s College and then headed into a side street in what was obviously a student area. Diane’s flat was in a more modern block of red brick, set slightly back from the line of terraced houses. He parked as close as he could and plucked the first of the boxes from the car.

  Diane met him at the door, the children crowding in behind.

  ‘Come in, come in. This is really good of you.’ She took the box from him and handed it to Jeb. ‘I’ll come down and give you a hand.’

  She propped the door open with a wedge and followed Mac back down the stairs. ‘You said you’d got a few questions? Have you eaten? I can make you a sandwich or something.’

  ‘I could do with a cup of tea,’ Mac confessed. ‘And, yes. I’ve talked to Ray. It’s a conversation that’s left me with a few loose ends I hope you can clear up. How are they settling?’ he added.

  ‘Well, all things considered. Megan’s sleeping with me and Jeb is sleeping on the sofa bed. It’s not ideal, but—’

  ‘Is this where you lived with Ellen?’

  ‘For my last year of uni, yes. She was working full time and I had a bar job, so we managed to rent this place. Been here ever since. It’s going to seem strange moving out.’

  Mac nodded and opened the car boot. It took them two trips to get everything upstairs. The children pounced, diving into boxes and bags.

  ‘Yolanda sent sweets,’ Mac said, ‘and William Trent sent this for you.’ He handed them a fat folder full of press clippings and maps and photocopies. ‘William said he didn’t know if you’d still want it,’ Mac added as Megan looked suddenly bereft and Jeb handled the folder as though it might bite.

  ‘Tell him thanks,’ Jeb said finally. ‘He was helping us with a school project. We’d all got to write something for the end of term performance thing. Uncle Bill said he’d find us sources no one else had got.’

  ‘I bet he did.’ Mac smiled. ‘Your Uncle Bill is a very knowledgeable man.’

  Jeb was clearly confused about what to say. Gently, Diane took the folder from him and peeked inside. ‘Looks great,’ she said. ‘Look, it’s going to be a little while before we get a new school sorted out, maybe this could be something to do in the meantime. Something to really impress them with?’

  Jeb nodded though Megan still looked a little doubtful.

  ‘In the meantime, why don’t you two go and sort through these boxes. Meg, if you need more hangers, you can take my jumpers out of the wardrobe and put them in … oh, I don’t know. Stick them in one of the cupboards, OK?’

  Relieved, Mac watched as the children turned back to their boxes and bags.

  ‘Shall we leave them to it? ‘Diane asked. ‘I’ll get you that cup of tea.’

  ‘Do I know you?’ Vera asked. Then her expression cleared. ‘Oh, you’re that friend of Lydia’s, aren’t you. Rina …’

  Rina nodded. ‘That’s right, my dear,’ she agreed. ‘Rina Martin.’ She held out her hand and Vera shook it, automatically. ‘Can I come in? I think I have something of yours. A notebook and some letters?’

  Vera’s expression changed. A sudden hopeful, relieved look in her eyes touched Rina painfully. ‘You have my things? Do you have the tape recording too?’

  Rina shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. That hasn’t come my way. Can I come inside?’

  ‘Oh, of course. I’m sorry. I’m just …’

  She opened the door wider and allowed Rina to enter, then led her through to the small living room at the front of the bungalow.

  ‘You have a really pretty garden,’ Rina said.

  ‘Thank you. It’s a little sad this time of year. Won’t you sit down? Can I get you some tea?’ She was staring at Rina’s bag, guessing her possessions must be inside the blue leather. Rina took a seat and withdrew the diary and the bundle of letters. She held them out to Vera who practically pounced on them and then held them close to her heart. Vera closed her eyes and Rina could see that she was close to tears.

  ‘Thank you,’ Vera said. ‘Where were they? Did that man have them?’

  Briefly, Rina thought about lying. About saying that they had been at the airfield and just been mislaid but Lydia had described the thoroughness with which she had searched every box and every possible hiding place. Instead, she went for a version of the truth. ‘They were given to Inspector MacGregor,’ she said. ‘He brought them to us and Lydia realized they must be your missing documents.’

  ‘But did he have them. William Trent?’

  Rina hesitated but knew that Vera had already made up her mind. ‘I believe he may have done,’ she said. ‘The main thing is, you now have everything back.’

  ‘Not everything,’ Vera said. ‘No, not everything.’ She walked over to an old bureau and opened a drawer, slipped her letters and her book inside and then turned to Rina. ‘I’m grateful to you,’ she said. ‘And I’m sure you’ll think me very rude, but would you mind terribly if … Would it be awful if …’

  ‘You’d like me to leave,’ Rina said gently and Vera nodded.

  ‘I’m not offended,’ Rina assured her. ‘I can see that you’re upset. I understand that you were close to Ellen Tailor. This must be a terrible strain.’

  She busied herself with her bag and then stood up. Vera had turned away and Rina knew that she was crying. ‘I can see myself out,’ she said.

  ‘Ellen told me that it was Vera who gave her the impetus, really,’ Diane said. ‘That it was Vera who gave her the confidence to make changes. At the farm. And that was what set everything in motion, I suppose.’

  ‘In what way?’ Mac asked.

  ‘It was in the church. They were arranging the flowers one day and Ellen was talking about the exhibition, I think.’

  Vera Courtney had discussed the exhibition with Ellen Tailor as they arranged flowers in St Peter’s church.

  ‘Part of me thinks it’s a good idea and part of me thinks it’s terrible,’ she confessed, ‘putting people’s private letters and diaries on public display.’

  Ellen paused, a puzzled expression on her face and a long-stemmed rose in her hand. ‘It’s all old news, Vera. So old the younger generation, like my two little monsters, know almost nothing about it. History matters. You have to make history real for it to matter to the ones who come along afterwards.’

  Vera shook her head, watching critically as Ellen plunged the stem of the rose into the oasis. ‘Your children are lovely,’ she said. ‘Certainly not little monsters. Not like some … anyway, I’m not against people learning about the history, it just goes against the grain do put, well, private stuff on display.’

  Ellen viewed the flowers critically. ‘That’s not right, is it? Vera, how do you get yours so perfect every time?’

  Vera laughed and eased the rose from the green foam, placed in back in just a slightly different position. ‘Ellen when you’ve been doing church flowers for as long as I have, you’ll be able to do it in your sleep. Place the others round that one and then infill with the gypsophila. Lovely little flower, that is. Hides a multitude of sins.’

  She fussed with greenery for a moment longer and then asked. ‘Is Daphne contributing anything?’

  ‘I asked her. She said if there was anything left at the farm I could take that along. The kids want to get involved. I don’t think Daphne’s that interested, to be honest.’

  ‘She can be a stubborn woman,’ Vera said. ‘But she was a stubborn child too. These traits get set early if you ask me.’

  ‘I called her twice about it,’ Ellen said. ‘Does that look bette
r?’

  Vera nodded approval.

  ‘I thought, you know, sorting through old stuff together, it might be something she could do with the kids. I know Jeb hated the fact that we didn’t get along and when he was alive I think we both made the effort, but you know.’

  ‘As I said. Stubborn. Ellen, you can only do so much.’

  ‘She doesn’t even come to the farm. And she doesn’t want me in the house. If she wants to see the children I have to take them to her place and drop them off outside, or arrange a meeting somewhere. She barely speaks even when we’re making arrangements.’

  ‘You’ve done all you can, my dear.’ Vera patted her hand.

  ‘I’ve even left all her stuff out at the farm. She’s got more shelf space in the living room than we have. I just don’t feel right, putting it all away, you know?’

  Vera laid down her secateurs and straightened her back. ‘Ellen, my dear, I sometimes despair of you, I really do.’

  She noted the younger woman’s surprise – and a little hurt. She softened her tone. ‘Daphne will never approve of you. She wouldn’t approve of anyone. Jeb knew that and you should accept it. Let her go her way and you and your children go yours. If you want my advice you’ll hire a skip and have a sort out.’

  Ellen laughed uneasily, ‘Vera, I couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be right.’

  ‘Then box up what’s hers and put it in the attic or in one of the outbuildings. Tell her she can come and get it if she wants, but your home should be yours. Not a place you feel you are still living under sufferance.’