by John Eider
‘So who’s this Campbell Leigh?’ asked the Sergeant.
‘Ah,’ answered the Inspector, ‘you didn’t know that I had a contact now on the Hills Estates Community Forum? It was a long shot, asking his help, but he knows a lot of people and he knows Stacie Kehoe: she’s the toast of the town apparently, won a school prize; and not only that but he saw her not half an hour ago.’
‘I’ll fetch the car.’
‘Where are we going?’ asked Cori once they were moving.
‘Near the Prove site,’ answer Grey, ‘though go there via the Cedars; which will be educational in its own right, as you’ll appreciate we’ll be following Charlie’s death-walk by daylight.’
They took the car first to Cedars Avenue, before beginning the journey proper. The five minute drive took them first along the sedate Avenue, then onto the instant flurry of one of the town’s major arteries, before eventually seeing them turning off into the maze of Groves, Walks and Passages that made up the geographical patchwork that was the Hills estates.
The site of Stacie’s sighting wasn’t far from where a police cordon still fluttered around the courtyard where Charlie Prove had met his end; yet the drive there was less useful than Grey had hoped, as Cori, busy with the indicator and craning forward at each junction, eventually had to concede,
‘I can’t get any nearer that way, and the other direction’s pedestrianised.’ A line was flashing on the satnav, but that turned out to be a gated alleyway. ‘Who designed this place?’
Between the odd shapes of flats and houses Grey could see another road between them and where their destination lay, one with garages and small bunker-like shops running along it; yet like his partner couldn’t see how to get to it from the road they were on.
Were such streetplans designed to militate against car use? Grey didn’t know, but imagined that on foot there would be a dozen ways to walk between here and the Cedars, and that he could try and trace Charlie’s route as many times and never follow his exact footsteps.
‘Looks like we’ll have to take the last bit by foot,’ he suggested.
‘And what a lovely place you’ve left me to park the car.’
The ‘Monument to the Falling of the Berlin Wall’ was twenty years old now and still doing its job. Situated a few yards in from the near side of the largest area of greenery in this section of the Hills, it had been designed to offer a focal point and enliven the landscape without taking away valuable free space. Circular, three foot tall, and around three yards across, it was a raised disc of grass the shape of a sponge cake, with the mini-representation of the famous Wall acting as the cake tin or decorative ribbon running around the side and holding the elevated section in place. The ‘Wall’, complete with etched-in authentic graffiti (overlaid with more modern additions) had around the circumference panels broken, missing or appearing to tilt to one side, in representation of how the Berlin Wall looked that famous night, when those held behind it for so long took to it with pick-axes and lump-hammers.
Essentially it formed a tiny ha-ha wall, though with no stately home atop it to keep the cows away from. Grey, when passing this way and where appropriate, could never resist jumping to the top for the optical illusion it offered of grass running off unbroken in all directions. Not today though, as the monument was not vacant: it was instead already occupied by a figure sat cross-legged at the centre and distractedly watching a distant football game. That they were here wearing a school blazer on a schoolday afternoon seemed in the circumstances neither here nor there.
Mindful of procedure, along their way here Grey had again called the Kehoes. Stacie’s father now approached from the opposite direction to meet them.
‘Dad!’ she started as she saw him approach. ‘I couldn’t face going in today.’
‘It’s not about school. Stacie, love, these people just want to talk to you about Ms Dunbar, your tutor.’
‘Are you the police?’ Relieved in one way now, she hopped off the monument to join them in that way only teenagers possess, of having energy to burn but still appearing sullen about it. But Grey could tell that this was not her normal mode and that she was just upset.
‘Hello Stacie,’ I’m Inspector Rase and this is Sergeant Smith. You know why we want to speak to you?’
‘Am I in trouble?’
‘Not that I know of; but you did know Ms Dunbar didn’t you, and have you heard what happened to her?’
‘She was murdered.’
‘Yes, she was, and so you see we must speak to everyone who knew her at all.’
‘Can we talk here? I like it here.’
‘Of course we can. So, when did you last see her?’
‘Thursday after school.’
‘This was your regular appointment?’ (She nodded) ‘And you hadn’t seen her since?’
‘No.’
‘How long have you been seeing her?’
‘Since the start of last term.’
‘It isn’t that she isn’t clever, Inspector.’ This was her father speaking.
‘Oh no, I wouldn’t want to suggest it was.’
‘Her teachers recommended her to get a tutor because she was so bright: to push herself, to do even better, to learn even more and get into college, maybe even university.’
‘So Ms Dunbar was specifically recommended?’
At this the father looked shamefaced,
‘The thing was, Inspector, when it was first suggested we get a tutor for Stacie, we weren’t able to afford one.’
‘So how..?’
‘Esther’s family…’ burst in Stacie to break the silence, her own father clarifying,
‘We don’t – didn’t pay for Ms Dunbar’s tutoring.’
‘My friend Esther was seeing Stella already. She needed to: she’d missed a lot of school and so her family were sending her there to catch up. She didn’t enjoy the lessons, and so she asked me to go with her and wait for her afterwards. Esther took me along one week and we all got on. Stella gave me a book to read, and she was thrilled the next week when I came back and told her I’d finished it.’
‘What book?’
‘Of Mice and Men.’
‘And what did you think of it?’
‘That it was so sad.’
‘A beautiful book.’
‘It is, isn’t it.’
‘I told you she was clever, Inspector,’ commended a proud father.
‘We had a long chat about my favourite books. We almost took over all of Esther’s lesson, not that she minded.’
‘Esther’s an emotional girl, Inspector, not bookish like our Stacie. She’s got her head screwed on right.’
‘Stella said I ought to speak to my parents about coming to see her myself. I said that we’d been advised to before but couldn’t… But the next day Esther came around with her family, and they said they’d be happy to pay for me as well.’
‘He’s a good man, Esther’s dad. An honest man.’
‘I… don’t think he is her dad, Dad.’
‘No, I remember now, she called him Jeff.’
‘Missed a lot of school, you say?’ asked Cori.
‘I think she may have been moved around a bit, had a tough childhood. She told me bits of it, but didn’t like to talk about it too much.’
Grey could see there would never be such problems at the Kehoes. He continued,
‘Monday would have been Esther’s evening with Stella?’
‘Yes, Mondays and Wednesdays.’
‘Did she attend that lesson?’
The girl now only nodded, looking downward.
‘And did you know she was still at the Cedars at ten that evening?’
Those sullen eyes shocked opened wide.
‘You didn’t know she was there that night?’
Stacie gave the kind of unguarded look that adults become too good at covering.
Grey guessed, ‘But you knew something was up? She’s told you? You’ve spoken to her since?’
Stacie nodded.
‘She
hasn’t been in school this week?’
‘Not since Monday, no.’
‘Come on Stacie, love. Tell him what you know.’
‘After this, can we go and get something to eat?’
With her father’s encouragement, she spoke slowly,
‘On some days we have different lessons, so I don’t get to see her much. At lunchtime on Tuesday though, her form tutor found me in the corridor and asked me why she hadn’t come in that day. I checked my phone – we’re meant to switch them off in class, but I keep mine on silent – but I hadn’t felt it buzz all morning and she hadn’t messaged me. I called and got no answer, but she texted later.’ Stacie fumbled with her phone, holding the screen open for the officers to see the message from Esther:
‘NOT GOING TO SCHOOL TODAY.
FOUND SOMETHING OUT, NEED
TO CHECK. DON’T GO TO CLASS
TONIGHT!!! LOVE XXXXX
‘And then I got this one, after I tried to call again and got no reply to my messages,
‘DON’T WORRY BUNNY. CAN’T
TALK YET. WILL TELL YOU ALL
SOON. COULD BE AMAZING!!!
BUT SHHHH! BIG SECRET!!
XXXXXX’
‘Did you know what she meant?’
‘No.’
‘She gave you no more indication of what it was she’d found out? Whether it was something to do with Stella?’
‘I… don’t know.’
‘And “Bunny”?’
‘That’s just one of her silly nicknames for people.’ Stacie couldn’t help but smile as she remembered her friend’s ways.
‘So what did you do?’
‘I still went to my lesson after school, and saw the people outside Stella’s building and ran home.’
‘You knew it was Stella that had died?’
She nodded, ‘They were talking about her. And then I was really scared.’
Her father took her in his arms, ‘Oh, honey, why didn’t you tell us you were worried about your friend?’
‘I didn’t know what to say, Dad. And you were already being so nice about Stella.’
‘We’d seen the news in the afternoon paper you see, Inspector.’
Grey nodded.
‘That’s not all,’ continued Stacie. ‘We’ve got a number for Esther’s family – or step-family, whatever they are – so that evening I called them.’
‘Go on.’
‘I didn’t know what to say at first, I didn’t want to get Esther into trouble you see, so I started just by telling them about Stella, that she’d died, and that I knew they’d want to know.’
‘And?’
‘And they told me that they already knew, that they’d read it in the evening paper, and that Esther already knew. They told me not to worry, even though they sounded worried, though they were trying to hide it. So I just told them everything: about Esther not being at school, and her teacher asking where she was, and about Esther’s messages. I even broke her promise, and told them she had this secret.’
‘And what did they say?’
‘They said they’d called the school and spoken to her teacher, and that that was all sorted out now and for me not to worry about it.’
‘No response regarding the “secret”?’
‘No. So I pushed them, asked to speak to Esther. They told me she wasn’t there, that she’d gone away for a few days, and that she’d be back when she was ready.’
‘Those were their exact words?’
‘Yes, as I remember them.’
‘Who did you speak to?’
‘Her father, Jeff, or whoever he is; but I could hear his wife was there too.’
‘Do you have that number?’
Stacie again moved quick fingers over the touchscreen to bring up her ‘Calls Dialled’.
Cori checked her notebook, ‘Yes, that’s the number we’ve been calling, and only getting their answerphone.’
Mr Kehoe said, ‘They do normally answer. That’s the number we called to tell them Stacie was ill one week and so Esther couldn’t stop over as arranged.’
Grey paused; then continued,
‘Stacie. You may not have known this, but Esther was at the Cedars only a short while before Stella was attacked. If nothing else we need to keep her out of danger.’
‘I know.’
‘You’ve been a tremendous help, but we need you to do one more thing for us.’
‘You want me to tell you when I hear from Esther?’
‘It will be for the best, sweetie.’
‘I know, Dad.’
Cori had dialled the number again,
‘I’m still getting the answerphone; and we’ve already left two messages. I’ll call the school and see if they have her last address.’
‘I can take you there,’ said Stacie suddenly. ‘I don’t know the address, but I remember the house.’
‘We call in?’ asked Cori of Grey alone, knowing the Superintendent was waiting on their return.
‘We could have Esther in the hour.’
‘Come on then,’ she said to all, ‘the car’s this way.’
Chapter 15 – The Wheelwrights
