by Wonny Lea
Matt relayed the message to Martin who shrugged his shoulders and asked Matt what he made of what Sister Thomas had said.
‘Don’t know, boss,’ came the reply. ‘Like you, I thought there would be nothing more to do following the second visit to Parkland but now I’m not so sure – she did sound as if she wanted to talk about their findings.’
‘Or maybe just talk to Detective Sergeant Matt Pryor,’ chuckled Martin. ‘OK Matt, well just make that call this evening, and then we must decide if anything requires formal investigation or if Sergeant Evans’ nose is on the wrong scent this time. I can’t afford the manpower to go on a wild goose chase – but of course if you want to take things further in your own time, that is entirely up to you.’
Matt made a face, zapped the central locking of his 4x4, and was on his way back to Goleudy, well before Martin who was sitting in his own car going through the voicemails he had received throughout the morning. One was from Shelley and he played this over a few times. Hell, he was smitten! She was reminding him of their plans for the evening and expressing her hope that the murder she was hearing about would not scupper them. His main reason for playing the message over and over was because of her final comment, ‘love you, bye for now’ she had said. It was something lots of friends said at the end of their phone messages, but not something Shelley had said before and hearing it made him feel special.
His mind stayed on Shelley during his drive back to the office and he resolved that as he now knew, beyond any shadow of doubt, that he loved Shelley then it was time to tell her and to make sure that her feelings mirrored his own. Please, God, he thought, don’t let anything as base as a murder investigation keep me from tonight’s promise.
Martin was surprised to realise that it was almost one o’clock when he got back and the staff dining room was heaving. He decided to just have a ham salad sandwich, mainly because he didn’t want to face the queue but also because he knew Shelley had organised somewhere to eat later.
Matt, Alex, and about six others were all packed around a table intended to seat four people, and as they hadn’t seen Martin he was able to grab a coffee from the machine and take it, together with the sandwich, to the relative calm of his office.
Closing the door behind him, Martin’s mind drifted back to Shelley, but with superhuman effort he sat down, pulled out a pen and some paper, and focused absolutely on the forthcoming press conference.
He considered possible questions and jotted down some of the facts he would need to give in response. There was so little he could provide and he knew the media would not be satisfied. He wasn’t satisfied either and he knew that until they discovered who the woman was they could not even begin to think of any suspects who may have had means, motive, and opportunity. His best bet would be to use the forum as an appeal to the public for any information that could possibly lead to the identification of the body.
Matt tapped the door and told him that the vultures had gathered and were waiting to get the show on the road. ‘I was going to say they’re all there waiting with pens poised to take down your every word, but there’s not a pen or a pencil in sight – even the local rags have gone totally electronic.’
They walked down the stairs to the front of the building and into the large room set aside for public meetings, that was now packed to the rafters with men and women from the media and their ever-more-sophisticated equipment. Wires and cables looped and swung from one end of the room to the other but as soon as the door at the front opened all eyes and lenses were focused on Detective Chief Inspector Phelps.
‘Thank you all for coming,’ began Martin. ‘Just to ensure we all have the initial facts correct I can confirm that yesterday morning at around 8 a.m. the dead body of a woman was found in Bute Park – in the undergrowth of one of the trees at the edge of Coopers Field. The woman’s body was discovered by a member of the public, a local lady, who was in the area exercising her dog.’
‘As yet we have been unable to identify the woman and on this point I would like to appeal to the public for their help. Our Chief Pathologist, Professor Dafydd Moore, has examined the body and from his findings I am able to tell you that the lady was approximately eighty years old with very poor eyesight and limited mobility. She was barely five feet tall. We are treating her death as suspicious. The PM examination revealed a blow to the left-hand side of her skull that was almost certainly the cause of her death. We obviously have no idea at this stage how she came by this injury but the fact that her body was subsequently left in this way may well indicate that she was murdered.’
Martin stopped to drink from the glass of water on the table in front of him at the same time turning his left palm towards one of the reporters who tried butting in with a question about whether or not the body was naked.
Martin didn’t have to answer his question at that moment but he was pleased that it had given him forewarning about what the press already knew. He hadn’t intended mentioning the fact that the body was naked but now he would do so – but unless forced to he would say nothing about the clothing.
‘I’ll take questions in a minute,’ continued Martin. ‘As I said a moment ago, we are appealing to the public – and that appeal is on two counts. The body could have been left where it was found anything up to two weeks ago, but we have good reason to believe it was either on or just after Thursday July 14th.
‘So we are asking all members of the public to consider if an elderly neighbour, friend, or relative seems to have disappeared. The woman in question would certainly have needed a stick or a walking frame to get around and even then would have done so with difficulty as she was also visually compromised almost to the point of being blind.
‘Please check on people you know. Maybe you think an elderly relative has been taken for a holiday with another member of the family – we are all so busy with our own lives but I urge you to check and to ask the police for help if you have any doubts about the whereabouts of anyone fitting the description I have given.’
Martin sat back and hardly took a breath before the barrage of questions began but because they were interested in the reply, the majority allowed the reporter, who had previously tried to interrupt Martin, to have first bite of the cherry. ‘According to one of my sources the body was naked, are you able to confirm that? Also was the body interfered with in any sexual way?’
Martin stared hard at the journalist and remembered why he recognised him. He was the one Matt had spoken about after their last press conference, and here he was again asking questions about nudity and implied sexual interference. According to Matt they were the only questions he ever asked – and what a sad world when questions about possible sexual abuse had to be made in relation to an eighty-year-old woman.
‘I am able to confirm that the body was naked and also that there was no abuse of any kind other than the injury to her head,’ replied Martin.
The usual mish-mash of questions followed, with cheap points being scored between the various factions of the media, and Martin gritted his teeth waiting for it to end. His opportunity to draw things to a close came when the same question was posed for the third time. ‘Given that we have all heard that question more than once before, I can only assume you have no more questions to ask and we can all go about our own business.’
Not waiting for any response Martin got to his feet and led Matt out of the room, up the stairs, and into his office.
‘I always feel I need a shower when I have had a session with that lot. I know they also have their jobs to do, it’s just that some of them seem to revel in learning about the worst of human nature.’
Matt nodded in agreement and then posed a question. ‘Where are we going on this case? I’ve been racking my brains and the nearest thing we have is one missing woman who we believe has been taken by her daughter to France. I understand you’re going to see her sister, Miss Forrester, with Helen Cook-Watts, as she was the one Miss Forrester spoke to at the time she reported her sister missing.’
‘I did hope to do that this afternoon. Do you know if Helen’s around?’ asked Martin.
‘Sorry guv, she isn’t, and come to that Miss Forrester isn’t available either. Apparently Helen knew you wanted to speak to Miss Forrester and got in touch with her earlier, but the lady has a hospital appointment this afternoon and doesn’t know what time she’ll be back. Helen has provisionally made arrangements for the three of you to meet tomorrow morning, and apparently you need to be prepared for a long session.’
Martin laughed as he remembered the statement Helen had put together regarding the potentially missing sister. ‘Matt, I’m just going to finish off a few things here and then I intend heading home as I have an evening planned that, in spite of this murder, I intend to enjoy.’ Before his sergeant could even raise an eyebrow Martin had set about clearing his desk, with his mind back on Shelley and already racing towards what he hoped could be a life-changing night ahead.
Chapter Eight
I Love You, Shelley
‘Shut the bloody door!’ bellowed Anthony Cooper ‘Tell me what the hell is going on and don’t say that nothing is going on, because two visits from the police in one day adds up to a whole fucking load of something in my book.’
‘There’s no need to swear at me,’ responded Peter Doster. ‘Why don’t you calm down and see the situation for what it is? You will have seen on the news that a body was found in Coopers Field yesterday morning and Sarah Thomas got involved with helping someone at the scene, that’s as much as I know.’
‘What do you mean that’s as much as you know? Even I know more than that as the police told me exactly what Sarah’s involvement had been. What I’m asking, because it’s something I am failing to understand, is why they came here twice! Once to take a statement from Sister Thomas, yes, that makes sense, but a second time and that time with a CID sergeant interviewing her – that’s the bit I don’t get, what’s that all about?’
The home administrator shuffled a bit and knew from past experience that it was as well for him to keep his own counsel when his boss was in this sort of mood. He knew it from when the two had been in school together and Anthony had been the class bully even then.
By nature, Peter was a hard worker, and at school had been considered to be a bit of a swot, and this was probably the only reason Anthony made any time for him. After all, why would Anthony do his own homework when he could, with a bit of persuasion, get Peter to do it for him? It was the only way Peter, who was by nature something of a loner, could be seen by the rest of the class as a member of the Cooper gang.
Thinking back now, he remembered the years when his whole school life had been dominated by the man who was standing in front of him and was causing him as much distress now as he had done when they were boys.
In their final year at secondary school, Peter had become besotted with a girl three years younger than him, and she had quickly realised that she could twist Peter around her little finger – and so in a very different way she had become the second bully in Peter’s life. After all these years Peter still found it hard to get to grips with what had happened back then. He knew that Anthony was fully in the picture and that he, Peter, would have done anything to prevent his family getting to know the sad, sordid story of underage sex and DIY abortion.
The two men had gone to different universities, but possibly because there was no one to help him with his coursework Anthony had dropped out when just into his second year. Peter’s university days were the best days of his life, and in his final year he met Carol, the woman who was, four years later, to become his devoted wife, and subsequently the mother of his two children.
How he wished he had summoned up the courage to tell her about the skeleton in his cupboard when they had first met. They were both young then, and lots of their friends were experimenting with drugs and ‘anything goes’ sexual activity, so she may well have understood. They now had two teenage daughter of their own, and the thought of any harm coming to either of them turned his blood cold.
‘Well!’ shouted Anthony. ‘Got an answer for me? I repeat, why was the law here for the second time, and what did they want that couldn’t have been dealt with by just ordinary coppers? Why involve detectives just to go over a statement from one of our staff?’
‘You saw more of them than I did,’ Peter mumbled. ‘You went back to the office to see Sister Thomas after they went, didn’t you?’
‘Yes I spoke to her in the nurses’ office, for all the good it did me. She said there was nothing more to say and repeated like a parrot what the police had already told me, but she was hiding something, I could tell. Dr Shaw is right about that one, she’s far too inquisitive for her own good!’
Peter hesitated and then spoke. ‘She was speaking to the police again this morning when I walked into her office and caught her on her mobile phone. To be fair, she’s not one to break the rules, and it’s normally her reprimanding others for using their phones during working hours.’
The only part of Peter’s sentence that registered with the home owner was ‘speaking to the police again this morning’ and he virtually erupted. ‘Speaking to the police again this morning! Speaking to the police again this morning! What the fucking hell do you mean? When were you going to pass on this information? What was she saying?’
Peter regretted having mentioned the episode with Sister Thomas and her mobile phone but the words were out now and the genie could not be put back in the bottle.
‘You’ve been out all day,’ he protested, as he watched Anthony Cooper wave his arms about and then pour himself a large quantity of whisky. Peter Doster was not in the least bit surprised that only one glass of whisky was poured, in fact he would have been amazed if he had been offered a drink.
‘I got back here at five o’clock, so I’ve been back well over an hour, plenty of time for my so-called home administrator to keep me in the loop regarding something he knows is causing me great concern. Think, man, think! What exactly did you hear Sarah Thomas saying to whoever it was on her mobile phone?’
Feeling suddenly quite scared Peter tried to remember what Sarah had been saying when he entered her office. ‘It was something about an almost identical list but she didn’t know what to make of it and then she asked the person she was speaking to what he wanted her to do with the information – words to that effect but maybe not exactly what she said.’
‘Go on, go on, you idiot! What else did she say?’
‘Well that was when she realised that I had come into the office and I asked her if she didn’t have better things to do than to use her phone when she was on duty.’
‘For the love of God,’ exploded Anthony. ‘When the hell will you get your priorities right? Who cares about her using her bloody mobile phone? What happened next?’
‘Well, I had obviously interrupted the message she was leaving and she just finished it off quickly …’
‘Yes, yes, but how did she end her message – did she leave her number or anything?’ Anthony could barely contain himself.
‘I remember almost exactly what she said,’ was the reply from a man who had a pretty good idea how his next words would be received. ‘She said, “Sorry, Sergeant Pryor, but Mr Doster thinks I should be working and not phoning you, but I finish at four o’clock today so call me on this number” – I think that was almost exactly what she said.’
Anthony Cooper’s rage reached epic proportions and he lashed out furiously, sweeping cups and glasses to the floor and even knocking over an almost full bottle of whisky. Peter watched as his boss picked up the bottle and wished he could see the funny side of how ridiculous it was that a grown man could behave like this. But there was nothing funny about the words that came out of that grown man’s mouth.
‘So you have known since this morning that as well as two visits from the police yesterday, one of the senior members of our nursing staff has been leaving messages for Sergeant Pryor – not just any Sergeant Pryor, but Detective Sergeant Pryor
– the one who was here yesterday. This can only mean we are all in the shit – at least we will be if they start digging things up and making two and two make five … that’s what they do, you know – you are such a fucking idiot.’
Cooper continued. ‘I need to speak to Dr Shaw urgently. In the meantime I suggest you keep your mouth shut, and if you go talking to the police about anything remember there are things they may still want to learn about a certain naughty little schoolboy – and even if the police are no longer interested I know a certain Mrs Doster who would just love to be told …’
Peter practically ran from the room, and for the next half hour just sat in his car trying desperately to think how he had ever reached this position and what he should do next. There were always options but most of the ones he came up with required the resolve of a much stronger man than he was.
Sarah had already left Parkland before the two men had met, but in any event she wouldn’t have seen Mr Doster in the car park because she had used the back entrance and walked through the side streets and into the centre of Cardiff. She needed a new pair of shoes for work, and with that no-nonsense purchase quickly sorted she just strolled around some of the arcades and did some people watching.
She marvelled at how shopping in Cardiff had changed over the past decade; that there was now everything from the old world charm of Edwardian and Victorian arcades to ultra-modern shopping precincts. Sarah remembered reading that the city was near the top of the list for the best shopping experiences in the UK. Scattered liberally around the shops she noted the number of coffee bars and restaurants to suit just about every taste, as well as the funky wine bars where the younger set seemed to congregate. She loved her home city and on this warm evening, one of the best in several weeks, she felt somewhat patriotic and proud to be part of the buzz that was Cardiff.
