Death At Willows End

by A. B. King

  “You say that she must have had a sexual relationship before submitting to you?” Danny asked interestedly. “How old would she have been at the time that you had it away with her?”

  The bluntness of her question seemed to encourage him. “If you must know, she was fifteen at the time, and if I'm any judge, she had already had lots of experience.”

  “Do you happen to know the names of any of her other boyfriends?” I enquired.

  He shook his head, but his eyes were still on those legs like he was mesmerised. “No, 'fraid I can't help you there, she never mentioned any, and I never asked. Well, I mean, there was no point in looking a gift horse in the mouth, was there? I was just chuffed I'd made it with her, and how! Guess it was every lad's dream, and to start with it was great, I could get as much sex as I liked, just so long as I beat her first.”

  “So, what happened?” Danny asked.

  “Well, the truth is, the sex-stuff was great,” he sighed wistfully as his mind travelled back to what he obviously regarded as the carefree days of his youth, “but I didn't much like her as a person, you see, and I soon got bored with her. If you must know, I don't hold with all this kinky stuff, and she always wanted to be made to suffer. Like I said; weird. What she liked more than anything else was a ritual beating.”

  “Ritual beating?” I queried.

  “She liked nothing better than to have her bare arse well and truly slapped!”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “Well, like I said, I didn't really like her, and when I left the school it was a good chance to get away from her. Who she teamed up with afterwards I couldn't say.”

  He suddenly glanced up and out of the window as a shadow moved across it, and his expression instantly took on a worried look. “Oh, there's the wife,” he exclaimed. “Look, I'd rather you didn't mention any of this when she comes in, all right? I mean, it's like I said, it was all a long time ago, but she might not understand?”

  “We shan't say a word,” I said positively, catching Danny's eye as I stood up. “You have helped us quite considerably, and we must not take up any more of your time.”

  “Yes, thank you so much Mr Molesworth,” Danny echoed, “it has been a real pleasure talking to you.”

  “Think nothing of it,” he said with yet another ill-disguised leer, and then added with quite unintentional honesty as he took a last lingering look at Danny's legs; “The pleasure's been all mine.”

  As we left the building we were favoured with a dark suspicious look by a squarely built middle-aged battle-axe who was undoubtedly the wife. From the way she scrutinised Danny I didn't doubt that 'Ricky' was in for a hard time, but that was not our worry.

  “Well, that hasn't got us very much farther forward,” Danny commented as we drew away from the kerb. “I was hoping for another lead.”

  “Only in as much that it appears to confirm that the late Julia really was quite a masochist, and if she was as sexually experienced as our lecherous friend 'Ricky' Molesworth appears to think, it seems likely to me that there are other boyfriends we don't know about.”

  “Accepting that I have no recollection of anything prior to the accident, I don't ever recall any mention of boy-friends right up until the time she got married,” Danny mused. “I know her parents were very strict; maybe she deliberately kept them all secret?”

  “Well, it seems increasingly obvious now that there were others, and the chances are that the man on the bridge was one of them. I'll even go so far as to theorise that it was you, in your true identity of Dian that saw Julia and her latest partner engaging in some sort of perverted sexual activity that triggered everything.”

  She glanced at me in astonishment. “You mean...?”

  “Think about it Danny. Firstly, why do you suppose that she was so keen to take the pair of you camping? I bet it was because she needed to have a secret meeting with her latest boyfriend. Secondly, you and your sister obviously got wind of the fact that she had a secret beau. No doubt your sister was all for leaving well alone, but you, being the awkward cuss you still are, had to go and see for yourself. Thirdly, do you remember when we wandered up that footpath to the road you pointed out the used condom lying on the grass part the way up?”

  “What's that got to do with anything?”

  “I think that that is probably where Julia and the man were cavorting! I think that walking up that path half triggered a memory of that night, your eyes went that way automatically, looking for evidence!”

  “You really think that that is possible?”

  “Danny, during our walk along the bank of the river and back I saw several of the things lying around, but you passed no comment; indeed I doubt you even noticed them, so why notice this one?”

  She was silent for a few moments, concentrating on her driving.

  “So, if what you are suggesting is correct” she said at last, “I witnessed some pretty exotic shenanigans, and then I slipped back to tell my sister, right?”

  “It pretty well ties in with what we have learned from the people we have talked to so far.”

  “And then I talked my sister in to impersonating me?”

  “It's a guess, but yes.”

  “But no! Look Neil, assuming that you are right, and that I'm really Dian, which I still find hard to accept, then I went back to the tent and told my rather shy and retiring twin sister what I'd seen, and suggested that she go out and play the innocent? She wouldn't have done it in a thousand years!”

  “Maybe not, but we don't know what you actually said. Don't forget that you were a couple of young teenagers, and I'm pretty sure that as a teenager you were up for almost any sort of mischief. I doubt if the really serious connotations of what you saw actually occurred to you. Maybe you were spotted as you were spying, and high-tailed it back as the lovers made themselves decent? Perhaps then for a laugh you spun your sister a cock and bull story about Julia following you down the path because she wanted to speak to her about the boy she had seen earlier, or about something else quite innocuous? Perhaps you thought that you would then have a jolly good laugh as Julia tried to smooth over an incident that your sister knew nothing about? Picturing the bewilderment on your sister's face, and the embarrassment on Julia's may have seemed wildly hilarious to you at the time There would be no way that you could imagine that the whole situation would suddenly turn as ugly as it did. Maybe you were watching the exchange between Julia and your twin, and at the last minute you were about to intervene, and that is when the lightning struck?”

  She pondered on it for a few minutes, and I could see that half of her wanted to reject the whole business out of hand, and the other half was sensing the feasibility of what I was suggesting. “But it's all 'what-ifs' and 'maybes',” she said at last.

  “I agree, but you cannot deny that it is a scenario that would fit such facts as we have,” I countered, “and we won't know the truth until we find the man, or if your memory suddenly returns.”

  “And so far, not much progress on either front,” she remarked dolefully.

  “Well, there's always hope.”

  “Do you know what really worries me now?”

  “I didn't think you ever worried about anything,” I responded lightly, but not for the first time I badly misread all the signals.

  “If what you are saying is right, then it was me that sent my sister to her death.”

  There was nothing I could say to that. We drove on in silence for a while.

  “Where are we off to now?” I asked at last, trying to get her mind off the idea of her own guilt.

  “I told you; we are going to see a woman called Sandra Gibson,” Danny said, clearly still pre-occupied with the thought of her own responsibility in what had happened all those years ago. “She was a friend of Julia's during her school days, but sort of drifted out of the picture when Julia got married. I've spoken to her briefly on the phone, and I've a gut-feeling she might know something that will help. I certainly hope so.”

  “And t
hat makes two of us.”

  “Well, we are here,” she announced as she drew into the kerb a few minutes later. “She knows that I'm bringing a colleague with me. She sounded very sensible on the phone so it’s now a case of fingers crossed.”

  We left the car and walked down the drive to a large Victorian mansion that seemed to be completely overgrown with ivy.

  Chapter Eighteen.

  Sandra Gibson proved to be a woman somewhere between her late thirties and early forties, soberly but expensively dressed, and somewhat reserved in manner. She had that look about her that suggested that she was every bit as intelligent as Danny, but perhaps less extrovert in manner. Danny had not told me much about her, if indeed she even knew any more than she had said when announcing the appointment. I had no idea if the woman was widowed, married or single, in business or a member of any of the professions. Her appearance provided me with no real clues about her as a person, and about the only thing I could 'deduce' by exercising my so-called 'detective skills' was the fact that whereas her house may have been old and overgrown, it was tastefully furnished, and thus there was no evidence of a shortage of the readies! I formed the opinion, based purely upon my first look at her, that, quiet and reserved or not, she could very well be a force to be reckoned with.

  “I understand you wish to obtain information with regard to the background of Julia Gordon,” she said once we were comfortably settled in her spacious lounge, and with the usual introductions and similar formalities completed.

  “That is correct,” I agreed. “We believe that you were friends with her during your school-days?”

  “Yes, that is true; in the way that children tend to do we became 'best-friends' for quite a while. I haven't seen her since we left school. May I ask why you are so curious about her?”

  “I'm very sorry to say that she died recently,” Danny interposed before I could say anything.

  “Indeed?” Sandra said, but there was no indication of surprise or distress on hearing the news. “I am sorry to hear that. However, I don't see why the fact of her death creates a need for you to probe into her early life. Are you here in an official capacity, or is this a private enquiry?”

  As I suspected, the woman was no fool. “The truth,” I said quickly before Danny could jump in head first yet again, “is that she may or may not have committed suicide. There is a clause in her life insurance policy that renders it null and void if in fact she genuinely took her own life. We have been engaged by an interested party to make enquiries independent of the police who are not overly concerned by such matters unless there is a suggestion of a crime. As I am sure you will readily appreciate, one aspect we need to eliminate is the possibility of foul play connected with anything related to her past.”

  I'd done so much lying since taking up the case on Danny's behalf it was by now fast becoming second nature.

  “I see,” she said pensively, “and you think that whatever odds and ends of memory I can dredge up will resolve this question for you?”

  I couldn't make up my mind if she was making an honest observation or was been politely derogatory of our efforts.

  “Enquiries,” I said in much the same tone of voice that she had used, “are useful not only for what they uncover, but from what they also lay to rest. The chances are that anything you may be able to tell us will only serve to show that this is a complete blind alley.”

  “Were you 'best-friends' all the way through school-days?” Danny chipped in. I noticed in passing that she sat very primly in her seat, unlike the exaggerated display she had put on for 'Ricky' Molesworth.

  “We never actually fell out, if that is what you are asking?”

  “But the relationship cooled?” I hazarded.

  “Yes, I suppose that is a good way of putting it.”

  “And why was that?” Danny asked.

  Sandra didn't answer immediately, but just sat on the couch studying Danny with an expressionless face. I suddenly developed an uncomfortable feeling that this quiet reserved woman was seeing right through our lies.

  “Fortescue,” she remarked suddenly. “I knew I had heard the name before. You are one of the Fortescue twins aren't you?”

  “Yes, I told you, I'm Danny Fortescue.”

  “Of course; it comes back to me now. I knew once I had spoken to you on the telephone that I had heard the name somewhere; the infamous Fortescue twins from my school days. And now you come here asking about Julia Gordon, who by co-incidence attended the same school, and I'm left wondering why?”

  “I explained,” I started to say, but of course as usual I was neglecting to engage brain before the mouth started to dig the usual mine shaft for me to drop into head-first.

  “Mr Hammond,” she said with almost an air of resignation, “I may look perhaps a shade green to you, but allow me to assure you that I am no cabbage. May I suggest that we start again?” She paused briefly, but clearly did not expect a response. “Good” she continued, “now as I recall, Dian Fortescue, your twin sister died tragically on a weekend camping expedition. By all accounts you only just managed to survive yourself. It so happened that Julia was in charge of that particular expedition, and the general consensus of opinion at the time was that she was pretty distraught by the whole business, as was only natural. It was also common knowledge that you suffered total amnesia as a result of your experience, and eventually the whole business was consigned to the limbo of the past. Now quite suddenly you turn up out of the blue with a 'colleague', whatever that term actually implies, making enquiries about her. And before you push the insurance fiction again I should perhaps mention that I am an insurance company executive, and can very soon verify if what you are telling me is the truth?”

  She looked full at me, and I knew from those cool eyes and quiet expression that trying to fool her, or fob her off with half truths wouldn't get us anywhere.

  “Very well,” I sighed. “We will, as you suggest, start again. I apologise for the rather pathetic subterfuge; I thought it would save a lot on unnecessary explanations. I see now it was entirely the wrong way to go about matters. My name is Neil Hammond, and I am a private enquiry agent. Miss Fortescue is my client, and the enquiries we are making relate to the death of her sister. The total amnesia resulting from the accident recently showed signs of cracking; not enough to reveal what actually happened on the day that her sister died, only enough to cause her disquiet. Strongly desiring to know exactly what happened caused her to retain my services. I have been interviewing a number of people, and the sum of the information gained so far suggests that there was another person present at the time of the events. This person never came forward at the time of the tragedy, and remains unidentified to this day. As part of the investigation I recently interviewed Julia, and her evidence did not accord with the facts as we have understood them. I was proposing to make a second appointment to discuss these discrepancies with her when I learned of her death. I have been given to understand that officially, her death is being treated as suicide, however, the possibility exists that it may not be. Similarly, there may or may not be a connection between Julia's sad demise and what happened fourteen years ago. The line of enquiry I am pursuing at the moment concerns a possible male acquaintance from her past who may or may not have been interested in seeing that she answered no further questions; possibly to conceal his own part in this tragic affair.”

  “Thank you, Mr Hammond,” she said as I finished. “May I ask if you are in business in your own name, or trading under another?”

  I produced a business card from my pocket and passed it over.

  “Thank you,” she said after glancing at it quickly before placing it on a coffee table adjacent to her chair.

  “I must also apologise for not being strictly honest with you from the outset,” Danny said. “It was my idea, and not Mr Hammond's; will you still help us?”

  “Of course,” she said, as if there was no doubt in her mind at all, “I will try to give you as much information as
I can. For what it is worth, I personally think that this particular line of enquiry is worth following through; I have always suspected the presence of an unknown party at the scene of that tragedy, your enquiries appear to support that suspicion.”

  “Thank you,” I said, and sat back to listen to what she had to tell us.