by Hylton Smith
She slammed the door in his face and within seconds the music blasted its way back through the bricks and mortar. Prentice had a brief notion of telling the occupants that they could face charges for such excessive noise. Jones had quelled his reflex to vomit and made the point that they hadn’t determined whether this was Mitchell’s wife.
“Does it matter? We can check with birth and deaths registry to see if what she says is true, or I can send you back in there to confirm that it is Mrs Mitchell.”
They legged it back to the car, hoping that it still had four wheels.
*
Olivia was prepared for the worst when she tackled her mother for a second time. Peter’s silence had given more credence to the assertion made by DCI Prentice. “I’m sorry I have to ask you this Mum, but I have to know. Is that really my Dad lying in there? Or have you kept something from me all these years?”
“I don’t know what you mean Olivia, what on earth has put such an idea into your head. Your Dad and I have been married for almost fifty years, or is it forty?”
“I’m not disputing how long he’s been your husband, but he’s not my father is he? He was very upset when I asked him about this. I had to ask because the police know about these things, they have absolute proof that Peter isn’t my biological father. And as much as I’ll always think of him as my Dad, you have to tell me who is my natural father. It’s going to come out anyway if it’s connected to Kieron’s disappearance.”
“Oh my God Olivia, stop talking about this, it doesn’t help, and you should never have spoken to your Dad about this when he is so poorly. Now just drop the subject.”
“So, I’ll have to help you to remember then, let’s start with when you had an affair with Ian Gladstone. Stop pretending Mum, we’re all going to have to face up to this sooner or later.”
Pauline couldn’t stem the tears any longer. “I can’t talk about it right now darling, it was a mistake, leave it at that. I’m going to see your Dad now, you’re upsetting me with these accusations. Your Dad loves me and I love him, and you know we both love you so much. I have to go to him.”
Olivia was almost overcome herself with alternating waves of sadness and anger, and most of the latter was directed at Gladstone. With the evidence Prentice had, and her ‘parents’ lack of denial, she went after her boss.
*
The checks validated that it was the Edward Mitchell they were looking for, and he had committed suicide six years ago. The two detectives looked at each other in the hope that one of them could offer some explanation of how a dead man had become their main suspect. Prentice punctured the uneasy silence by suggesting a total regurgitation of all current evidence, with Martha joining them. “You’re the man who lives by the book and its bedfellow, elimination. You do the talking and we’ll do the critique. This is real pisser Jonesy and we really do need to move on to another suspect, like today, if we’re to avoid becoming a laughing stock. Agreed?”
“Yep, we’re in a bit of a maze, and now the entrance has disappeared, but someone is still playing games with us, and someone else is lying. It’ll be in there sir, and it could even be staring us in the face. At the risk of upsetting everyone, I’d like to make another suggestion which might avoid an even bigger banana skin than the one we’ve just stepped on. We could consider an exhumation some way down the line. We would really look like numpties if he’s not in the box, rather ‘Jack’ out of the box.”
“Don’t even go there at the moment Jonesy.”
*
Kieron stood on the balcony overlooking the Thames while Mickey snuffled amongst the new surroundings of the apartment. The Labrador was not to be allowed on the balcony, as it was a long way down to the ground. Kieron wasn’t happy about this at first, but accepted it when he realised Mickey could be lost forever if he managed to jump over the guards. The shipping traffic fascinated the boy and he pointed at a crowded passenger boat. “A boat! I want to go on a boat.”
“Ok, but if we do, I’ll have to hold Mickey, he might be scared and you couldn’t stop him if he jumped into the water. He’s too young to swim.”
“Can we go now?”
“Maybe tomorrow. I need to get you some new clothes. Would you like some groovy clothes instead of those boring grey pants and coat?”
“Ha-ha, what’s groovy?”
“Bright colours and long trousers. A funny hat to keep out the cold, and maybe some snow glasses so people don’t know who we are. We don’t like being pestered by lots of people do we? And there’ll be lots on the boat, so we should frighten them away with some new clothes.”
“Yes, groovy, groovy, ha-ha.”
“I forgot to tell you Kieron, I tried to speak to Daddy on the phone, to see if he wanted to come here, but he said no. Do you think we should ask Mummy?”
“Mummy’s at work.”
“How do you know that?”
“Mummy has to work.”
“Are you disappointed Daddy won’t come?”
“No, he would stop me having Mickey.”
“Right, let’s go and get our new groovy clothes. Mickey needs to sleep.”
“Groovy, ha-ha, groovy Mickey, groovy.”
*
Gladstone picked up the phone. “I need a word.”
“Oh hello Olivia, can it wait? I just had a call from the fire brigade, someone called them to my house. The fire engines are there now. Apparently it was one of my neighbours that called them, there’s been an explosion of some kind. I really have to go.”
“Dear me, I’d better leave it for now then, let me know if you need somewhere to sleep, it sounds like you’re not going to stay there tonight, and I’ll still be here with Mum.”
“Much appreciated, I’ll be in touch.”
Chapter 21
The ‘do not disturb’ notice hung slightly askew on the office door, reflecting the panic they felt about the status quo of the case. Prentice sat back as comfortably as he could, and Jones asked Martha if there was any new information from forensics to add to what they already had. “That includes the car.” She shook her head, so he began.
“The message in one way or another is the key. Without that, Peter and Kieron would never have been at the hospital. That is a fact. The testimony of Derek Wallace seems pretty reliable, but doesn’t qualify as, or convey a fact. It was corroborated by Olivia, yet that can’t be considered a fact either, it’s an opinion. Peter Radford miraculously confirms the identity of his attacker as the same person, but this is directly after he’d been thinking about it for twenty minutes with only Olivia in attendance. Definitely not qualified as a fact. The fingerprints on Kieron’s tablet left in the car are interesting. There are only two different prints. That is a fact, but at present, even though probability tells us that Kieron’s should be there, that has yet to be proven. Forensics are optimistic that they can recover sufficient quality DNA from the small prints to check against his hair brush from his home. Until that happens, it remains a probability, not a fact. The other prints on the tablet do match those found on the stun gun which injured Peter. That is a fact. However, until we have a suspect from whom we can take a swab, and the resultant DNA matches any which forensics get from the prints, we can’t say for one hundred percent that it is the person identified by Wallace. The probability of it being so increases circumstantially, but I repeat, it’s not one hundred percent certain, ergo not a fact. The turd in our otherwise converging water pipe of evidence is that the only two people claiming to know the person in the photo, are Olivia and Tom, and he didn’t seem as sure as she did. Wallace didn’t know the man. A further complication arose when we found out the man Olivia had named actually died six years ago, apparently hanging himself. If we maintain a rigorous need for proof, this can’t yet be considered as definite until we can compare something like dental records of Edward Mitchell with the remains in the coffin. It’s a slight chance they won’t match, but it has been known to happen before. I can’t classify it as a fact. Whether or no
t it becomes a fact, there was a hearing brought by Edward Mitchell, against Olivia for malpractice during an operation which resulted in the death of his son. This is a fact, as is a further allegation that Gladstone was involved in a cover up of malpractice. The other person involved in this alleged fracas has since left the hospital, we’ve checked and that is a fact. Kieron has disappeared, but no demand has been forthcoming, as far as we know, so not a fact. A man and a car were seen on Hamsterley Mill estate, either side of the time of the message, and the message came from a phone box on the estate, both are facts. As to whether this man made the call, although it’s highly likely, it isn’t a fact. So many people have used the phone that forensics can’t separate out DNA effectively. It’s a slightly different situation with the car. Although it was stolen in London, there is a lot of DNA which can be used as an identifier against a suspect, but we don’t have one. Furthermore, as we can’t put the same car at the hospital for certain, this is also in the category as probable but not proven. It will be very helpful if Kieron’s DNA is in the car, and that can become a fact, but isn’t just yet. The same applies to the scarf, it may match with the prints on the gun and tablet, dependent on DNA recovery. Now, to the wristbands. Both Tom and Olivia said the one in the same parcel as the gun is Kieron’s and the DNA taken from it does match DNA on Kieron’s hair brush. That information has just come in. It’s now a fact. The second one found in the car is still undergoing tests. I’ve deliberately left the next item until last. Olivia is the daughter of Ian Gladstone, of that there is no doubt, and neither of them want to talk about it. I could go on, but it would be more productive to summarise….”
Martha raised her hand. “I’d rather take any questions you have when I’m finished Martha.” She rolled her eyes, glanced at Prentice, and shrugged her shoulders.
“The bare facts first, because like it or not the Crown Prosecution Service gets jumpy when we sprinkle too much circumstantial makeweight into the mix. Ok, we have one message, two prints on the tablet, one of which matches that on the stun gun. A man, unknown to the residents of Hamsterley Mill is on film at that location before and after the message. A stolen car was also there at those same times. That car is crucial in linking many other probabilities, which may then become facts. This is all we have from the incident in the hospital car park. Twelve years ago, a boy died during surgery at this hospital. And, wait, it was definitely the son of the person that Olivia has since identified as the man we are led to believe was spotted by Derek Wallace at the crime scene. It’s a fact that she and her husband named him, in that order. Then Peter makes the same assertion. Kieron’s wristband was certainly in the stun gun parcel, which was definitely slipped into the internal mail system of the hospital. Out of the blue, we discovered that Olivia is Ian Gladstone’s daughter. It’s only my opinion, but I think we’ve been looking at this the wrong way around. We should have this list of facts as a foundation to prioritise effort on other leads and fragments of a circumstantial nature. When I look at it myself, I admit I’m drawn to speculate, but then that gets overtaken by the need to eliminate. That’s why I believe one of the most important tasks we have is to verify that Edward Mitchell is actually in that coffin. Because, if he isn’t then three people are either mistaken or lying, and alternatively if he is in the box, we can forget him as a suspect. Something else which has been given no priority is to find whoever put the parcel in the hospital mail system. Right, I’m going to finish now with a suggestion. On one side of the evidence board we have the facts, on the other side the eliminated items or people. The stuff in between should then be graded by its relevance. An example of this is that although I was shocked by the revelation that Olivia is Gladstone’s daughter, it doesn’t lead me to search for some conspiracy, or in fact to eliminate it as a conspiracy. Of course that may change, but at present it has no bearing on identifying a suspect or getting a conviction. Ok, Martha, you had a question.”
“Did I, oh yes. Why are you talking in this funny voice?”
Prentice rubbed his eyes to hide a wry smile.
“Because this is a potential turning point in the investigation. When I’m conversing with you, it’s mostly banter, good-natured, and taking the mickey. That helps to deal with the frustrations of the job. For this opportunity to shift our focus, I’m not prepared to lace my presentation with cheap jokes when a boy’s life may be at stake.”
Prentice nodded. “Point taken. We have nothing to lose by shuffling the evidence we look at every day to the format you suggest. However, I’m going to have a hell of a job getting the go ahead for an exhumation. I’ll make the request today.”
Jones was pleased to hear this. “Thank you sir, and just to show I’m not asking for rigid adherence to this approach, I’ve selected an item which isn’t currently in the facts or elimination classification. It may deserve some thought, as it is connected to a fact which has been hitherto ignored.”
“Let’s have it then while you’ve got me softened up.”
“We haven’t followed up on this anaesthetist. He left the hospital shortly after the fatality of Edward Mitchell’s son, and someone scribbled on the official hearing report that he took the money and ran. He’s possibly the only person in that operating theatre who will talk to us, rather than closing ranks with the official line. It won’t take a lot of time and could bring testimony we’ve already had into question. For starters, he would possibly be the most objective person capable of verifying that the man in the photo is Edward Mitchell.”
“Great shout Jonesy, get Martha on it.”
“I’d rather do it myself sir, Martha needs to keep on top of forensics, and I want her to check that the woman we spoke to in Rye Hill was Mrs Mitchell.”
Prentice had to walk away.
Chapter 22
Kieron had never giggled so much in his short life. The London Eye had him positively giddy. He liked the big snake, and the nice man said it was called Old Tom, which he also said was a nickname for the Thames.
“Like Daddy,” said Kieron, and his face turned sour, “I don’t like Daddy.”
“No, it isn’t really Tom, the real name is the Thames. It’s only a river Kieron. I think you should give Daddy another chance, because when you’re naughty, Daddy always gives you another chance. I’m sure he’ll come to see you soon. I’ll invite him to our boat ride, how about that?”
The boy’s facial expression betrayed the feeling he wasn’t convinced, but he nodded his reluctant acceptance. “Mickey is my best friend now.”
*
Martha couldn’t venture into the flat in Rye Hill, despite being invited to do so, in sharp contrast to Batman and Robin. Standing on the doorstep, she tried not to inhale too often and got straight to the point. “Am I addressing Mrs Mitchell, the widow of Edward Mitchell?”
“I’ve already told the other policemen that Ted popped his clogs years ago, but I wasn’t married to him, no way love. He left his wife ages ago, and we met at a social. He sweet-talked me into letting him stay here. His other bitch had thrown him out on his backside. He said that she kept pushing him to have another bairn, but he couldn’t forget his son James, the young boy died in hospital you know. I thought he would be gone the next day. Instead, he promised to do my house up, being a handyman. I fell for it but nothing ever happened, he was useless, and I don’t know why I took pity on him, he was nowt but a drain on my own family benefit payments. I suppose he played on the loss of his kid, knowing I’m a sucker for a bloody sob story.”
“Thank you er…”
“Lena pet, Lena Wells. You take care now.”
*
Jones ran into one obstacle after another trying to run down the anaesthetist Philip Morrison. He’d left multiple messages to call back but to no avail. Finally, he left the message which did produce a result, a threat to come to the capital.
“DI Jones.”
“Yes, hello. It’s Philip Morrison, what do you want?”
“I’d like you to look at a
photograph of someone, and tell me if you know the person. You will have already figured out that the individual is from the Northeast.”
“I don’t have particularly happy memories of my years up there, in fact I’d rather forget I ever was there. Send it to my mobile and I’ll get back to you.”
“Well, it isn’t a very good quality photo to begin with, it’s actually quite grainy, so I’d rather you saw the original. You haven’t asked what it’s about.”
“I haven’t had time to take a leak this week Inspector, never mind show curiosity about a place I detest. Presumably you’re going to tell me anyway.”
“No reason not to, it could be connected to a case I’m investigating of a missing boy. An appeal has been shown in the northeast region, but we’re still waiting for it to go nationwide. You won’t know the boy, but he’s not the one in the photo. We need all the help we can get, because it’s been several days since he disappeared and that’s not good news. I can’t say more without risking adding bias to your recognition or otherwise of this person. I can fly to London to meet up, saving you as much time as I can. It won’t take more than a couple of minutes.”
“When you put it like that, I can hardly refuse. I have theatre tomorrow morning, and later in the afternoon. Can you squeeze into that gap? Say, two pm?”
“Sure, and many thanks.”
*
When Prentice raised the issue of exhuming what was thought to be the remains of Edward Mitchell, it produced a look of incredulity on the face of his boss.
“This is insane Prentice, it will never happen. I’ve listened to your reasoning and it falls seriously short of requirement. You need to find more justification, or better still, a more believable suspect.”
“That’s the whole point sir, the only two people who saw the attacker of Peter Radford, are the man himself, and the guy who alerted the hospital of that attack. We have to have DNA from the remains of Edward Mitchell to confirm or refute these witnesses. A prominent surgeon and her husband have also concurred that the man we caught on tape at Hamsterley Mill, is Mitchell, and we have to know if he’s doing a Lazarus act. My problem is that if the DNA we recover from the weapon and other sources all points to the same person, who is likely to have taken the boy, either the witnesses have got it wrong, the surgeon and her husband don’t know what they’re talking about, or we have a dead man as a chief suspect on both counts.”
