The Trebelzue Gate

by Anna Fitzwilliam

  The duty room was empty, the waste bins were overflowing with the wrappings from foodstuffs and balled up sheets of paper. Little glows of light from telephones indicated that they had been switched through to the police station for the night.

  ‘I’ll just do an hour,’ she said, as though there were someone to reproach her for returning to work. On her desk somebody had placed a folder labelled ‘Sex offenders – Devon and Cornwall, 1970 -.’

  She made a cup of coffee in the cleaner’s room and brought it back to her desk.

  Across the site the air raid siren began. When she returned from Oxford to wartime London, she had found the air raids exciting. Once, with a Canadian airman named Peter Boyko, she had picked her way through the ruins of a bombed building to rescue a young black cat. Peter Boyko pressed with his front teeth when he kissed. The kisses were spearmint flavoured. There were many weeks when the bombardment of London was unrelenting. In her section in the Admiralty a number of the girls developed a kind of dermatitis on their hands, it became further inflamed when the plaster dust from fallen ceilings was in the air. ‘Some people get rash-y, living on their nerves,’ the medical officer told them.

  ‘I’m not nervous,’ objected one of the girls whose name was Vera.

  At a little after nine o’clock the next morning they arrived at the home of Alexa and her boyfriend in Grampound Road. The building had once been the village shop. Now antique furniture was arranged in the window space – a dark wood marriage chest, two brass bound peat buckets and a break front bookcase. Black lettering on the white signboard read ‘The Old Dairy – Antiques’.

  Pat showed them into a large kitchen behind the shop. He said ‘She’s not been great, you know, you’ll have to go easy.’ Alexa was sitting at a scrubbed pine table. The wolfhound lay on the slate tiled floor. It lifted its head briefly to survey the visitors and then, seemingly satisfied, closed its eyes again to sleep.

  Monica said ‘I appreciate that it is a very distressing time for you, Miss Shute, but we need to find out more about your sister and, of your family, you were the one who knew her best.’

  ‘I suppose,’ she said, ‘but none of us were much good to her in the end, were we?’

  She swallowed a sob, the wolfhound opened one eye.

  ‘Has your mother told you …’

  ‘What, about her being pregnant? Yes, but only because I happened to ring her yesterday evening, I don’t suppose she would have bothered otherwise.’

  She gestured to Pat to pass her cigarettes. When she had lit one she exhaled and asked

  ‘Why on earth would she want to do that – why would she want to bring children into this world – I’m sure I don’t …’

  ‘You don’t believe it was an accidental pregnancy then?’

  ‘I highly doubt it. Amanda’s been clued up on … you know … since she was twelve or thirteen, if it had been an accident, unwanted, I think she’d have had something done about it, straight away,’

  ‘And has anything occurred to you – about who she might have been seeing?’

  ‘No, I’ve been going over and over it in my mind, Pat, can you think of anybody?’

  ‘Nope,’ he turned to fill the kettle and set it on the Rayburn.

  ‘What about friends, were there any close friends she might have confided in?’

  ‘I don’t think Amanda had any female friends, not since primary school. Girls hated her on sight, women too,’

  Pat said ‘Listen, I’ll make some coffee, Babe, and then I’ll leave you to it,’

  ‘No, stay,’ she said, ‘It’s all right, isn’t it, if Pat stays?’

  Monica nodded, ‘Of course, if that’s easier for you,’

  ‘You know, I don’t think it would be quite as bad if it didn’t seem like it was just me grieving for her – Mum and Roxy, you know, it’s just business as usual for them, they act as if they are completely unaffected. I’m actually the only one who seems to care.’

  ‘Were they ever closer to Amanda?’

  ‘I don’t know … I mean I know she could be difficult …’

  Pat set down coffee mugs,

  ‘And the rest,’ he said.

  Alexa looked at him with sudden anger, her eyes were shining with tears. He moved back to lean against the work surface and reached for his cigarettes.

  ‘Come on, Babe, you know what I mean. Don’t you think now might be a good time for a few home truths about your family?’

  She continued to stare at him but the anger was fading from her expression.

  ‘You’re here tormenting yourself,’ he continued, ‘but you’ve got to be honest as well, admit that your little sister made life difficult for pretty much everyone she came into contact with, including us, at one point.’

  ‘Do we have to bring that up?’

  ‘Why not? It happened, didn’t it, and they’ve told us they need to build up a picture of Amanda.’

  ‘What happened, Miss Shute?’ Monica asked quietly.

  The couple were silent and then Alexa said

  ‘You started it, Pat, you might as well carry on …’

  ‘Right, well, Amanda, she had no scruples about men you know, none whatsoever. One time, she made a play for me.'

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘Last year, there was a family do, down at the Old Parsonage, for Marilyn’s birthday. The Gerstmanns organised a dinner party. Amanda had too much to drink…’

  Alexa interrupted ‘We all had too much to drink, it’s the only way to get through one of our family occasions,’

  ‘That’s true, I suppose. Anyway, that pilot, Graham, that she was knocking about with, he was supposed to come as her partner, but he’d stood her up, she kept going out to the lobby to phone him. Then she took it into her head to start following me around, I gave her the brush off. I went out onto the terrace for some fresh air and she came after me, and more or less threw herself at me.’

  ‘What happened then?’

  ‘Nothing happened, except for I got livid. I told her to grow up and behave herself. I went inside and told Alexa what had happened. Then we made an excuse and came home.’

  Alexa held out her hand and gestured for Pat to give her another cigarette. When he had lit it for her she said,

  ‘Seeing as we’re onto home truths, you might as well know, that wasn’t the first time she tried to take a man off one of her sisters.’

  ‘What else happened?’

  ‘It was Nigel, Roxy’s husband. Just after the wedding they were posted up to Scotland, the Nimrod squadron at Kinloss. I told you how Amanda got herself into trouble locally, drinking, glue sniffing, boys … our mother decided it would be a good idea to send her up to Scotland to stay with them for the summer holidays.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And before long Roxy discovered that Nigel and Amanda were having a thing. I mean I don’t think Nigel was ever cut out to be the faithful type, but Amanda was under age for goodness sake…’

  ‘Was that the cause your sister’s divorce?’

  ‘Not immediately, they tried to patch things up for a while – Roxy was expecting her second child at the time. Amanda got packed off to school.’

  ‘How did she do, at school?’

  ‘Not very well, she got expelled before too long.’

  ‘Did you know that she was taking a language class?’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Does that surprise you?’

  ‘A bit, but then she was far brighter than people gave her credit for you know, underneath all the moods and the trouble making. Roxy and me, we’re good at business and figures, turning a profit, I suppose we get that from our bloody mother. But Amanda was really creative, if she hadn’t made such a mess of things at school, I think she could easily have done really well and gone on to university.’

  ‘When did you last talk to your sister?’

  ‘Talk properly, not for ages, I avoided her for a while, after what happened with Pat. I saw her on Christmas Day of course, the comp
any always does lunch for all the employees and their families. Mum and Conrad put on chef hats and do the cooking, it’s supposed to be an appreciation for the staff’s hard work during the year. She insists that we all go too. It was Dad’s idea, in the beginning.’

  ‘It’s a nice gesture,’ said Sergeant Bee.

  Alexa flicked fretfully at the ash on her cigarette ‘Oh yeah, we’re all just one big happy family at Parc Holdings. To be honest I think the staff would prefer a bonus and decent wages for the rest of the year.’

  ‘One of the waitresses at the hotel mentioned that you and Amanda worked together at an event last autumn,’

  ‘Oh God that, yeah, the Feast Fair. During St Mawgan village Feast Week, they have a fête to raise money for the cottage hospital. It’s a big county thing, it’s always held in the grounds of Trenant House and the Mermaid does the bar in a marquee. Mum roped in Amanda and me to help. We were supposed to work the bar with that waitress, what’s she called … Yvonne, and one of the casuals washing glasses.’

  ‘How did it go?’

  ‘It was awful. We got really busy but Amanda disappeared so I was stuck with Yvonne - who’s got a real chip on her shoulder anyway. I was pretty fed up with Amanda for skiving off. ‘

  ‘Where did she go?’

  ‘Who knows … I remember thinking she might have gone chasing after that Graham again – there’s always a big RAF contingent turning out in dress uniform to support the fête, Mum makes sure of that. When she finally reappeared, I had a go at her about it.’

  ‘And what did she say?’

  ‘Nothing really, she just looked pleased with herself. Then she started turning on the charm with the queue of impatient customers and she got uppity with Yvonne, as though it was all her fault.’

  ‘Was Graham Jarvis there?’

  ‘Yes, he was, I saw him later on, there was a group of them playing croquet.’

  ‘And do you think she was with him?’

  ‘Maybe, but maybe it was someone else – there were plenty of men around and let’s be honest, my little sister could get off with a man in an empty room.’

  She smiled sadly.

  Monica stood up.

  ‘Thank you both for your time, you have been helpful,’

  ‘You will keep in touch, won’t you …’ Alexa’s eyes were filling with tears again, ‘and you’ll let me know, you know, if…’

  ‘Of course,’ Monica replied.

  As Pat showed them out Sergeant Bee stooped to stroke the wolfhound’s head

  ‘He’s a fine dog,’ he said.

  ‘He’s a lazy sod,’ said Pat.

  In the car Monica said

  ‘The other sister, Roxanna, I want you to double check her alibi for Tuesday night.’

  ‘Do you think she could be a suspect?’

  ‘I think that being a young wife and mother and having your husband seduced by your underage sister could be a pretty powerful motive.’

  ‘That was a few years back though,’

  ‘It was, but who knows, something could have stirred it all up again – maybe the ex-husband has surfaced again, he could be the mystery man that Amanda had been seeing, it would be pretty galling for Roxanna if so.’

  As they drove back up the hill at RAF St Mawgan they watched and listened to the rumbling progress along the runway of a large, camouflage painted aircraft. Even as it approached the end of the tarmac, it seemed far too heavy an old workhorse to ever lift into the air, with its dull livery and snub rounded nose cone. But at the last moment, the ungainly craft achieved aerial grace, and with surety it rose and entered the soft cover of white cloud.

  ‘Hercules,’ said Sergeant Bee, ‘It’s the one they call the flying pig.’

  ‘How’s it been?’ Monica asked Ellery.

  ‘Pretty steady in here, pandemonium out there, one of those damn great transporter planes has been in and out, I think they’ve evacuated a load of them. I hope so, it might make getting round Armageddon a bit easier. And we’ve got the list of sex offenders checked off more or less, haven’t we Jones-y?’

  ‘Pretty much.’

  She proffered typewritten lists.

  ‘Good work, thank you,’ said Monica, ‘I noticed that the American, the Marine, doesn’t get a mention on it. Is there any response from the American commanding officer yet?’

  ‘Not yet M’am, we keep trying matey, his adjutant, – Lieutenant McLean,’

  ‘Well, keep at it, and can one of you see if there’s anything known on Jarvis’s neighbours – the Julian family, there’s a son of sixteen, mother seems a bit over protective. And any news on the car?’

  ‘No M’am, there was a delay waiting for permission from the landowner to go into the woods.’

  ‘We don’t need his permission, it’s a murder enquiry for God’s sake,’

  ‘Yes M’am, apparently they’ve just put in a load of pheasant pens, they don’t want them disturbed,’

  Monica’s face flushed with anger.

  ‘Who are these people?’

  ‘The Haig-Mercers, M’am, up at Trenant, they own the woods.’

  ‘Any more delays, Constable, and you can tell them from me that if they continue to obstruct my officers in the execution of duty I’ll slap them with summonses from here to breakfast time,’

  ‘Very good M’am.’

  When Monica had gone into her office Ellery observed that she was as teasy as a snake when roused.

  Beyond her office window the imperturbable plovers were picking over the turf. She sat down and read through the neatly clipped sheaf of memos pertaining to the sex offenders. There was confirmation that the kitchen porter had returned to Liverpool, the offender from the village of St Dennis was now an in-patient at St Lawrence’s mental hospital in Bodmin, sectioned after a suicide attempt. PC Ellery appeared in the doorway with a packet of custard creams, she accepted one to avoid offence.

  ‘The boy Julian, M’am,’ he said, ‘I knew it rang a bell, but I couldn’t think why. It’s just now come back to me. I was called to a disturbance up at the magistrates’ court last year, that accountant that diddled his clients, some of them turned up with placards and that. Anyway, the youth court was also sitting, or supposed to be, until one of the bench had to excuse herself because she knew one of the accused. I don’t know the ins and outs of it – I was too busy with matey the accountant – but I’ve just asked the desk to look it up for me. It turns out that the main defendant in the youth court was the Julian lad, Robert, arrested on suspicion of being a Peeping Tom, taking photos and all.’

  ‘So that was why his mother was so keen for us not to speak to him.’

  ‘It would be. Apparently, he’d been a bit of a pest roundabout for a while, pinching ladies’ undies off washing lines and that. Then his father come back on leave from Saudi and brought him some top of the range camera, telescopic lens and all, and young Robert put it to use by snapping girls in a state of undress, up at the sports centre and on the beach. They caught him red-handed, with another lad, looking through the windows of the chambermaids’ accommodation, round the back of the Hotel Bristol.’

  ‘And that was the charge in court?’

  ‘It was, a specimen charge, but the case had to be postponed on the day because they couldn’t get a replacement youth magistrate, by the time it was listed again the second lad, he’d got off, his family brought in some big shot London lawyer. Robert Julian was let off with a warning and they made an order for his fancy camera to be impounded.’

  ‘That is very helpful, Constable, thank you,’

  ‘Something else, M’am,’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘The second lad, I had an idea it was a foreign name and when they checked it turns out it was Gerstmann, Rudy Gerstmann.’

  ‘Thanks to Constable Ellery’s efforts, we have a couple of useful leads,’ Monica stretched to write on the lining paper. ‘We need to go and talk to Robert Julian and we need everything there is on this Gerstmann boy, Rudy - and his parents,
who just happen to be the business partners of our victim’s mother. Check and double check their whereabouts on Tuesday night. I noticed something the mother said yesterday - Conrad Gerstmann creating a job for Amanda with the firm. He was supposed to have been travelling back on the overnight sleeper from London on Tuesday. One more thing, continuing on the theme of coincidences, among the list of possibles rather than actuals in the sex offenders list I note that we have one Robin Harvey, home address seems to be on the Trenant estate.’

  ‘Big house land, must be a tied cottage,’ said Ellery.

  ‘What do we know, about the estate?’

  ‘The house, Trenant, is a couple of miles down from the other end of the runway. The family that own it, the Haig-Mercers, are the ones kicking up a fuss about their pheasant pens. The old man, he was Lord Lieutenant of the county for years. He’s dead now but there’s his widow, and the son and his wife, living there. Reading between the lines, they’re hard up, that’s why they’re starting up this big pheasant shoot carry on, there was a bit about it last year in the Cornish Guardian.’

  ‘Right, we’ll go and pay this Mr Harvey a visit. Sergeant, you drive, I’ll read up on him on the way. Meanwhile, Jones, you keep on at the Americans, and can someone arrange an appointment for the Julian boy to be brought in, we’ll do it at the station, and we’ll need an appropriate adult.’

  The file on Robin Harvey included background notes and correspondence, the social services department had become involved in the case. Robin Harvey, now 38 years old, lived with his elderly widowed mother in an estate cottage in Trenant Woods. The cottage was isolated and the conditions primitive, there was no mains water and electricity was provided by a generator. Robin’s father had died following an accident on the estate, the Haig-Mercers had allowed his widow to stay on indefinitely in the tied accommodation. Robin had experienced difficulties at infant school, he was labelled ‘backward’. At age eleven, a place had been found for him at a special school in Launceston but he repeatedly ran away. On several occasions he had been admitted to the St Lawrence’s mental hospital in Bodmin, there was no agreed diagnosis. Periodically the police received complaints about his behaviour, he was reported for loitering around the Trenant Woods campsite. Although one complainant reported that he had exposed himself, there had been no proven sexual offences, he was generally described as ‘just hanging about’ and looking in at the windows of the caravans. His unusual appearance disconcerted people. The police had issued a number of warnings. He was deemed to present a medium risk of future offending.