BURIED CRIMES: a gripping detective thriller full of twists and turns (14 page)

Chapter 19: Infrequently Washed Knickers

Tuesday evening, week 2

Hannah Allen dropped her phone into her bag and walked through to her bedroom. She shared a flat with two other students. She had been in the only communal room, the kitchen, when the call from Pauline Stopley had come in. The former actress had explained that she’d been at an Arts Council meeting in the capital. It had finished early, her evening date had fallen through and so she had a free evening in London. Would Hannah like to meet her for a light meal and a few drinks? Hannah was excited and surprised by the invitation. It would be really useful to pick the brains of someone who’d done the rounds as a busy, working actress almost two decades ago. Pauline must have built up a wealth of experience and hearing her stories would be very useful to Hannah. Even if Pauline wasn’t keen to talk about her past, Hannah would still gain something. She loved meeting people who had anything to do with the theatre, even carpenters or set designers. But she was puzzled. Had she really made such an impression on this woman?

Hannah rifled through the somewhat sparse contents of her wardrobe, finally settling on a pale blue dress decorated with small flowers in peach. A recent birthday present from her grandmother, it was simple but pretty. Ideal with those new peach suede shoes. Hannah went to the mirror. Maybe a hint of pink eye shadow? A little liner and mascara, a light touch of blusher and there she was, ready for an evening out. She slipped into her coat, picked up her bag and made for the door.

* * *

The Turkish restaurant in Bloomsbury was one of Hannah’s favourites and she knew the staff well.

The manager looked concerned when she entered. ‘You are not here with your young man. Should I be worried? Is it someone new you are meeting?’

‘No, no. I’m meeting someone who used to be a famous actress,’ Hannah replied. ‘But don’t say anything.’

She was shown to one of the better tables, close to an ornate shelf bearing vases of colourful flowers. She sat facing the door, looking out at the people streaming by outside. There were students, tourists and workers, alone or in groups, all on their way to an evening out somewhere. And there she was, Pauline Stopley. She stood out in the crowd even in this failing light. Hannah watched her stride towards the door, smile at the manager, then whisper to him as he took her coat. Hannah stood up ready to shake hands as she reached the table, but Pauline reached across and gave Hannah a kiss on the cheek.

‘You look lovely,’ she said. ‘That’s a pretty dress.’

‘Thank you.’ Hannah realised she was blushing slightly. ‘You found the place alright? I was worried that my directions wouldn’t be clear.’

Pauline smiled as she sat down. ‘Bloomsbury, Covent Garden, Russell Square. This used to be one of my old stamping grounds. I couldn’t get lost in this area. Now, let’s choose some food and drink and then we can chat. This is my treat by the way. No arguments.’

She waved a finger. Very theatrical, thought Hannah. She wondered whether to comment on Pauline’s dress, a beautifully cut, plain black shift, but thought better of it. They studied the menu, Pauline chose the wine, and the two women settled into a couple of hours of very pleasant chat about the ins and outs of an acting career. It was more than two hours later that they finished their coffees and Pauline paid the bill.

‘Shall we go to a pub?’ she asked. ‘It’s still early. My return ticket for Dorchester is tomorrow morning, so I’m in a hotel for the night and I’d just get bored going back this early. You must know some good bars near here if you’re a regular. What about it?’

‘Fine,’ Hannah replied. ‘There’s a really interesting one just down the road. It has puppets on a shelf above the bar, but more importantly the beer is terrific.’

Pauline laughed. ‘Beer? A slip of a girl like you?’

‘It’s something I inherited from my parents, both of them. My mum’s just as keen on a good pint as my dad is. You wouldn’t think so to look at her, but she keeps herself very fit. I try to do the same but it doesn’t always work. On cold mornings I’m more likely to stay in bed than go out running.’

‘Was that your father who was there on Sunday? He didn’t say very much. Good-looking though.’

‘I don’t know whether I approve of that!’ Hannah laughed.

‘What does he do?’

‘He’s a teacher. He’s assistant principal at a big secondary school and head of the maths department. He’s great. I love both of them.’

They found a table and Hannah bought a beer for herself and a brandy for Pauline. They had a second drink, this time two brandies that Pauline bought. Hannah took a sip, looked at the glass and guessed it was a double. Did she really want to wake up with a splitting headache tomorrow? Why had Pauline bought them both so much drink? She took another sip and realised that her companion seemed to have moved closer. She could feel Pauline’s thigh touching hers.

* * *

Hannah arrived back at her apartment just as her two flatmates appeared in the kitchen for breakfast. The three of them had been close friends at school and had decided to flat-share when they all found they were to be students in London.

‘How did your evening go?’ Marie, an economics student, asked. She still sounded half asleep.

‘Well, it was interesting. Quite enjoyable really.’

Jess, more alert, nudged Marie. ‘She’s still in the dress she wore last night. She’s only just got back in. Well, well, well, Hannah Allen. Sit down, have some tea and tell us all about it. We’re all ears.’

‘I thought you were meeting an actress?’ yawned Marie.

‘Yes, I did.’

‘So did you meet someone else afterwards?’

‘No.’

There was a stunned silence. ‘Does that mean what I think it means?’ asked Marie. ‘I mean, I know I shouldn’t pry, but . . . I don’t quite know what to say.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Hannah replied. ‘I might be part lesbian, but I really don’t fancy either of you two. I know how infrequently you wash your knickers.’

‘Will you be seeing her again?’ gasped Jess.

‘Maybe occasionally, but she’s a lot older than me. We both agreed not to make a thing of it.’

‘Hannah . . . what was it like? I mean . . . For fuck’s sake. Can you just swan in and tell us this? Well, you just have, so I suppose the answer to that is yes. Jesus, I would never have guessed.’

‘I think I must take after one of my aunts. She’s bisexual, though she doesn’t spread it around. And to save you asking the question, no, this wasn’t my first time. I don’t think it’ll be my last, either.’

‘But what about Russell? I thought you two were an item. What happens to you now?’ Jess asked. ‘You know, this might be the first time I wish I’d opted to do behavioural psychology rather than engineering.’

Hannah shrugged. ‘We’ll have to see, won’t we? Russell is not at the forefront of my mind just now.’ She looked at the clock. ‘Particularly since I’m due at a seminar.’ She drained her cup, but sat on at the table. There was an awkward silence. ‘I am a drama student, remember. Sometimes I just feel the need to rehearse.’ After several moments Hannah broke into a smile and winked at her friends. ‘Actually, despite the fact that she was very attractive, she was far too old for me.’

‘You utter little tosser! I can’t believe I fell for it,’ Jess complained loudly. ‘What did you actually do last night then?’

‘Russell came to pick me up from the pub. What happened between then and now is strictly between the two of us.’

‘Time for toast?’ Marie asked.

‘Thanks, but no. One thing I will say is that he cooks a brilliant breakfast. I don’t think I’ll be able to eat again until this evening.’

‘The world will end before you miss out on lunch, Little Miss Greedy,’ said Marie. ‘One thing we do know about you is that your first love is food. It’s also your second, third and fourth loves. Whatever else we’ve learned about you today, it will be a long way back in your affection rankings compared to a good nosh-up.’

Hannah paused at the doorway and laughed.

Chapter 20: Camberwell Beauties

Wednesday morning, week 2

‘So all four of them died, probably within four years of each other? It’s mind-blowing, ma’am. I can’t quite take it in.’ Rae was commenting on Sophie’s report about the two Camberwell parents.

The team were assembled around the central table in the incident room, along with five local detectives. Sophie was now in charge of a much larger squad. She’d decided that she couldn’t afford to wait until the children’s identity was officially confirmed. She would assume that they were the Camberwell twins and plan her strategy accordingly. The ACC at headquarters had agreed immediately, so all available resources were now being put at her disposal.

‘We have to bear in mind that it could all be coincidence. There was never any indication that Richard’s death was anything other than a tragic accident. It’s also entirely possible that Li Hua’s death was just a random hit and run, though the nature of the collision was suspicious, to me anyway. Barry and I visited the place where it happened, and we couldn’t see why anyone would be travelling well in excess of forty miles per hour in a narrow suburban street like that. The unofficial guess was that the driver was doing at least fifty. It’s possible it might have been someone high on drink or drugs, but it wasn’t an area noted for that type of thing. And if it had been some local tearaway, the local bobbies would have expected to find the car fairly quickly, probably burned out on some nearby wasteland. It’s never been found. Someone disposed of it very carefully.’

‘Did they do a thorough search?’ asked one of the local team.

Barry answered. ‘Yes, I think so. The local crime unit seem to have done everything by the book. They even staged a partial reconstruction with a dummy body. They tried to find the car from paint fragments found on her coat but nothing turned up. It was dark blue paint from a Ford, a very common colour. If the car was dumped, it wasn’t anywhere in the Bristol area. They did a check of local cars in that particular colour, but none had any evidence of front-end damage.’

‘It implies careful planning,’ Rae suggested. ‘It fits with someone thinking this through very carefully in advance.’

‘But what would the motive be? Why would someone kill her? She was a popular, highly regarded GP, a mother of two young children. What was to gain?’ a local detective said.

Marsh replied, ‘well, she might have been killed by her husband. We know from their headmaster that the children had a mother with them when they first arrived. She came to a couple of school events. So it seems fairly certain that Richard remarried. Li Hua’s death freed him to marry again.’

Sophie was growing impatient. ‘Let’s not waste time speculating. We’ll have to go back through the records to find out what happened before her death, and afterwards. Did he really marry again or was it merely hearsay? If so, how long afterwards? Who was she? We want to find out more about the relationship between Li Hua and Richard. When did they marry? Where? Were they happy? Let’s try to trace any family and interview them. Leave the speculation to Barry and me at present.’

‘One thing, ma’am. Can we be sure that Richard’s death really was an accident?’

‘I’ve thought of that, Rae. As I said, I’m keeping all options open. Maybe you could concentrate on that aspect. Find the post-mortem details if you can, and the coroner’s report.’ She turned to the rest of the team. ‘If anyone finds anything interesting, let me know immediately. No delay. It must come straight to me. Is that understood?’

The group returned to work and a hush descended on the room. Barry Marsh was building up a picture of Li Hua’s life. The picture of her that began to emerge was that of a dedicated mother, focused on her work and bringing up her twins. She had often referred to them as her "Camberwell Beauties," shockingly apt in the light of their burial place under a butterfly bush. Li Hua had been born and raised in Hong Kong and had gone to the local university. She met Richard there while they were both practising at a local clinic. They married and left for the UK several years before Hong Kong was ceded to China. Barry could find no connection with Bristol that would explain why they settled there. Rae was now researching his background.

Li Hua had come from a large family, so it shouldn’t be difficult to find someone willing to give a DNA sample. He spent the rest of the day on the phone, attempting to make arrangements with the Hong Kong police.

Rae managed to track down the findings of the original investigation into Richard’s death, along with the coroner’s report. The house where the accident occurred was a tall, terraced property with steep stairways. It appeared that Richard had tripped on some children’s toys left on the top step and had tumbled heavily to the bottom. His fatal head injuries were attributed to striking a protruding wooden window sill at the bottom of the stairs. This was sketched, and also shown in a photo attached to the report. The sill showed bloodstains where his head had struck it, and the wound was consistent with a collision of that nature. Richard had been alone in the house at the time. His wife, the second Mrs Camberwell, had returned from shopping with the children to find the body at the bottom of the stairs. There were no suspicious circumstances surrounding the death, according to the report. It had been accepted by the police, the pathologist and the coroner as nothing more than a tragic accident.

Rae looked again at the photos of the window ledge and the head wound. It was entirely possible that his head had struck the ledge after tumbling down the stairs, but didn’t bodies tend to flatten out as they fell down a long set of steps, such that they slid down the last section? Could Doctor Camberwell’s head still have been high enough off the level of the carpet to have struck the sill, a good two feet above the bottom stair? She took the file to Sophie.

‘The problem is, ma’am, that no one doubted that it was an accident, in all these reports. His wife’s whereabouts that afternoon were checked and there were witness statements from shop staff and neighbours, but I think there was enough leeway in the estimated time of death for some doubt to creep in. They’ve used the fact that his watch was damaged in the fall and stopped working to be the corroborating evidence for time of death. But what if had been deliberately altered then smashed separately? It’s all too late now to do any checking of the scene. All we have is the records in front of us.’

Sophie nodded. ‘We can bear it in mind. We need to find out much more about this second wife of his. Get onto it now, Rae. You’re good at going through records and spotting things. We need to know what her name was before she married Richard, and where she is now. Do we have a first name yet?’

Rae nodded. ‘Pauline. And that name matches the initial we have on our list of residents for Finch Cottage, a P Camberwell.’

‘Good. We ought to get these photos of the head wounds checked by an expert. I’ll ask Benny Goodall to recommend someone.’