BURIED CRIMES: a gripping detective thriller full of twists and turns (8 page)

Chapter 11: Smoking in the Shadows

Friday morning

St Paul’s Parish Church was an old building with an air of quiet grace. Before the installation of an effective central heating system several decades earlier, it had been well-known for its chilly interior. The current minister, Tony Younger, had made it his priority to make the building more welcoming, and the main improvement had been glaringly obvious: to counteract the incessant winter cold. His efforts had made a difference, with attendances at the regular Sunday services bucking the national trend and actually increasing.

He was in the church now, paying a quick visit before breakfast in order to have a few words with the cleaner. But the figure standing looking at some of the plaques was certainly no cleaner. He waved as he recognised who it was.

‘I wondered who you were at first,’ he said. ‘It’s unusual to get visitors this early in the morning. Are you here for any particular reason, Chief Inspector?’

‘Not really. I didn’t have time to pop in and explore after I saw you a couple of days ago. I just wanted to get a feel for the place. It’s not a problem, is it?’

‘Not at all,’ he answered. ‘Particularly since Dorothy, the cleaner, should be around somewhere. Visitors are always welcome, whether I’ve already met them or not. I try my best to operate an open-door policy, although that has its problems. But if a church is not accessible to people when they most need it, can it really fulfil its purpose? We keep the heating on low all the time during the winter for that reason. If some of the town’s poor and needy can escape from the chill outside by spending an hour or two in here, then that’s fine by me. And when some of my less charitable parishioners raise objections, I remind them that we are Christians and have a duty to look after those who are less fortunate than ourselves.’

‘That’s very worthy, Reverend,’ Sophie said. ‘If I were religious, you’d have my complete agreement. Sadly, I’m not.’

‘Sadly for who?’

She sighed. ‘Sadly for my appreciation of old churches. It restricts my opportunities somewhat, although that’s largely due to my own guilt complex. Well, one of my guilt complexes. I have so many that I’ve lost count.’

‘You sound as if you need an opportunity to unburden yourself. Not that I’m offering you a session. You’re not one of my parishioners, and I’d be afraid of what you might tell me.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ve had therapy, and not all of it was helpful. But some sessions did help. They didn’t remove my guilt complexes, but at least I’ve learned to live with them. Could you show me around? That’s if you have the time of course?’

He relaxed a little. ‘Yes, of course. But only on condition that you have some breakfast with me afterwards.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I have about ten minutes to spare before I need to eat, then I have a morning meeting. It’s Friday, so it’s bacon sandwich day. Does that sound okay? I have it all ready in the kitchen.’

‘That’s the best chat-up line I’ve heard in ages,’ said Sophie. ‘What woman could say no to an invitation like that? My husband only cooks me porridge in the mornings. Maybe a personnel change is in order.’

Tony Younger grinned boyishly. Usually all he had to deal with were the humdrum concerns of his parishioners. Conversing with this very attractive, intelligent and self-aware woman was like a breath of fresh air, particularly at this time in the morning. He took her arm and led her into the depths of the church for a “whistle-stop tour,” as he put it.

* * *

When she heard the main door open, Dorothy Kitson had quietly moved out of sight behind a column. The church cleaner watched the vicar and his visitor make their way towards the altar. She slipped off her shoes and tiptoed to a side door, slipping out into the chilly morning air. Chief Inspector? Was that what he said? What was she doing here, walking around with the vicar, arms linked like that? She slid back into her shoes and quietly made her way around the outside of the church building to the secluded north end. There she hurriedly pulled a cigarette out of a packet in her coat pocket, lit it and drew in several lungs-full of the calming smoke. She hadn’t expected this. But then, she hadn’t expected any of it. It was all a nightmare. What should she do? She realised that she was crying. Great streams of tears slid down her face and landed on her work overall. She took out a tissue and blew her nose as quietly as she could. It would be a disaster if they saw her, and the vicar brought that policewoman over to chat. She shrank back into the shadows behind a buttress and waited, shivering. She lit another cigarette.

* * *

‘Ma’am, I’ve just traced another resident of Finch Cottage from nearly eighteen years ago. I’ve been in touch with her and she’d be happy to see us, this morning if we want. She still lives in Dorchester, but down-sized to a smaller house after her husband died.’

‘Good work, Rae. Get on with it as soon as you can so that we can either log it as possibly useful or reject it completely. By the way, well done for yesterday. I know I said so in our briefing, but it might end up being the best line of inquiry we have. If you hadn’t bothered to search out that dinner lady on Wednesday afternoon, we’d be nowhere.’ Sophie looked more closely at Rae. ‘Are those new glasses you’re wearing?’

Rae nodded. ‘What do you think? They’re only for close work.’

‘They suit your colour really well, and the style is just right for your face shape. Maybe I should get you to talk to Jade. She might need to wear glasses, and she’s not happy about it. We’re going clothes shopping tomorrow morning and I was intending to steer her past a couple of opticians’ shops, just so that she can see that there are some stylish ones out there. Maybe I don’t need to with you looking so good in them.’

How does she do it? Rae thought as she collected her coat and headed towards the car park. In just a minute or two of conversation, she’s made me feel special, needed. God knows what this unit would be like if someone like the Swindon Tosspot was in charge.

She drove north, pulled up outside a bungalow on a quiet side street and made her way up the path. She was greeted at the door by a stout woman in her late fifties, peering at her through pebble lenses.

‘Come in, dear,’ she said.

Jessica Hart ushered Rae into her living room.

‘Mrs Hart, I’d just like to check a few facts with you about the time you lived in Finch Cottage. I think you were there in 1996, is that correct?’

‘Yes. It was spring when we moved in, May.’ She looked at Rae. ‘Those children’s bodies. Were they there when we lived in the cottage?’

Rae nodded. ‘It looks like it. They were probably there about twenty years, but we’re still waiting for confirmation from the experts.’

Jessica’s hand went to her mouth. Her voice was muted. ‘I can’t believe it. It’s such a lovely place but it was hiding a nightmare like that. I haven’t been able to sleep properly since I found out. But I never liked the cellar. It made me feel nervous. That’s why I phoned in. I hated going down there, but I never knew why. I’ve never felt like that about other cellars. Whenever I looked at that metal ring set into the wall, I shuddered. It was creepy.’

Rae looked at her in surprise. ‘I don’t think we spotted that, Mrs Hart. Where was it?’

‘It wasn’t easy to see. It was in the far corner, quite far from the light. It would be easy to miss.’

Rae made an entry in her notebook. ‘Mrs Hart, from what you’ve said, you didn’t own the cottage. Do you know who the owners were?’

‘No. Our contact was the agency in town — Murchison’s. They had an office just off the High Street. I don’t think they’re there anymore.’

‘So, whose name should I look for in the records, Mrs Hart? I noticed it was you on the report I found.’

‘It was my name on the rental contract. Bob was just no good with anything official, so I always looked after that side of things. I worked in the office at one of the big stores so I coped better than him with paperwork.’

‘And how long did you live at Finch Cottage?’

‘We moved there in 1996. Bob lost his job and we couldn’t afford the mortgage repayments on the house we owned. I got a job in a shop in town. We stayed there until the autumn a couple of years later. By then I’d been promoted to supervisor and Bob found a job with a local joinery business. We wanted to save for our own place again, so we moved to somewhere smaller and cheaper. Finch Cottage was lovely for the boys but the rent was too high.’

Rae waited. Eventually she said, ‘is Bob still here, Mrs Hart?’

Jessica said quietly, ‘he was killed in a work accident. I got a good settlement through the courts because the firm were negligent. That’s why I’ve got this little place now. But it’s no compensation for the loneliness or the sadness, is it? I still work, just for the company really, but only part-time now.’

Chapter 12: Café Chat

Saturday morning

‘Mum. All these clothes. They’re so, well . . . middle-aged.’

Jade was looking critically at the rails displaying some of the latest spring styles for women.

‘In case you hadn’t noticed, Jade, I am middle-aged, or fast approaching it.’ Sophie continued to half-heartedly slide the hangers apart.

Her daughter snorted. ‘You’ll never be middle-aged, Mum, not even when you’re sixty. We know you too well. This stuff,’ she gestured expansively, ‘is just not
you
. Not yet anyway. What we need is a boutique. Somewhere with clothes that are a bit edgy. Not this stuff. You wear this kind of gear to an old folks’ home or a funeral.’ She took the few items that Sophie was holding and put them back on the rail. She wagged her finger at her mother. ‘These clothes are not for you. Really and truly they aren’t.’

Secretly relieved, Sophie admitted defeat. ‘Okay. Let’s do it your way, but remember it’s work-wear I’m looking for. Take me to the shop of your choice, Little Miss Fashion Expert. Show me what you think I should be wearing when I head off to work each morning. A short, flimsy, skater skirt perhaps? Gold lamé hot-pants? I give in.’

‘Stop it, Mum. People are listening. This is getting embarrassing.’

The two women left the department store and walked along the street. This isn’t going as I planned, Sophie thought. She looked at her watch and gasped. ‘I wanted to be finished by now,’ she complained.

‘You can’t rush these things, Mum. You should know that by now. Someone in your position needs to choose the right clothes very carefully. You’re a role model, you know . . .’ Jade suddenly realised that her mother was no longer listening and had stopped moving. They’d just passed a café and Sophie was peering in through the window. She grabbed Jade’s arm and pushed at the door.

‘Coffee time,’ she announced loudly as she pulled the teenager inside. They made for the nearest empty table and sat down. A waitress came over to their table and took out her order pad.

‘Hello, Lily,’ Sophie said. ‘I thought it was you when I looked through the window. What are you doing working here in Dorchester?’

Lily Dalton peered at Sophie and then her elfin features broke into a broad smile. ‘Chief Inspector! It’s nice to see you. I applied for that job you told me about, at the café in Wareham, but it was taken. But the owner also has this place, and she offered me a job here. It wasn’t very convenient but after what you said, I thought I needed a clean break. I took the plunge and moved here.’

‘Well, you’re looking a lot more relaxed than you were last autumn. Has the move worked out well for you?’

‘So far. Early days still, I suppose, but I like it here. I’m sharing a small flat just outside the town centre. And I’ve made some friends.’ Lily paused. ‘Are you on that case with the two buried children? I suppose I shouldn’t be asking you about it, but it makes me shudder. Most of the customers are talking about it. I tell them I know the person who’ll be running the investigation, but I don’t think many of them believe me. I don’t suppose you can tell me anything?’

Sophie gave her a wry smile. ‘Uh-uh. Can we order some coffee, please? And a couple of cream cakes?’

Lily wrote down the order. One of the customers passed them on her way out. ‘Bye Dorothy,’ said Lily. ‘One of our regulars,’ she explained.

Once the waitress had left them, Jade leaned over and whispered to her mother. ‘That was a bit curious, Mum. That woman who just left was happily reading a magazine until she heard the words, "Chief Inspector." She stared across here, saw me watching, then gulped down her drink and hurried out. She deliberately kept her back to you all the time. Peculiar or what?’

Sophie laughed. ‘Maybe she’s been dodging her tax payments, Jade, or she’s been smuggling illegal immigrants into the country. Or maybe she saw the time and realised she was late for something. There could be any number of reasons for why she wanted to hurry out. Don’t get paranoid.’

‘Well you didn’t see the look on her face.’

‘And I also know that if I’d acted on even half of the times you thought someone was behaving in a suspicious manner, much of the population of this country would be behind bars. Or, more probably, I’d be out of a job.’

When Lily arrived with their coffees Jade asked about the woman who’d just left, ignoring her mother’s glare.

‘Dorothy? She comes in here a couple of times a week, but I don’t know much about her. She told me she does the cleaning for St Paul’s church and does cleaning and ironing work for some people who live in that area. I don’t even know her surname. Why?’

‘I think she dropped a handkerchief. Look, under the chair.’

‘I’ll keep it for her. She’ll be in next week sometime.’

The waitress moved away, out of earshot. ‘Jade,’ hissed her mother, ‘that was unforgivable. For goodness sake, what does it take to get through to you?’

‘I’m just being a good citizen, helping the police. Honestly, Mum, she really was acting weird. At least you know something about her now. St Paul’s. Isn’t that where the kiddies’ bodies were found? And she’s a cleaner in the area? I bet she’s hiding something.’

Sophie held her head in her hands. ‘God, this is a nightmare.’

‘Actually, Mum, I do need your help. It’s something quite serious, at school. I’ve dug a bit of a hole for myself, and I don’t know how to get out of it.’

Sophie shook her head slowly. She sighed. ‘What is it this time?’

‘Well, you know that I’m a prefect and we encourage younger pupils to come to us with their problems if they’re not sure about going to a teacher? I look after a couple of year seven classes. They’re the youngest groups in the school. I’ve been doing some work at lunchtimes with them about FGM, you know, the way many girls get cut in some African countries. It’s because of Hannah coming to Dorchester with the charity group to give that talk on Sunday. She asked me to help publicise it. I’ve been using a few of the posters that she sent. You remember that Dad took some in to his school? Anyway, one of the girls came to find me yesterday afternoon after school was over. She’s a little black girl and she’s worried about her best friend, Safiyo. Safiyo has discovered that her family are taking her back to Africa next week for a short visit. She’s convinced that the visit is to get her cut. Apparently Safiyo is terrified and doesn’t know what to do.’ Jade paused. ‘The problem is that to get the story out of Asli, I had to promise I wouldn’t tell any of the teachers. But if I don’t do something, the poor little thing could be taken out of the country and mutilated. I hardly slept last night, worrying about it. What can I do?’

‘It’s a child protection issue, Jade. In a case like that, any responsible adult who becomes aware of the problem is legally obliged to report it. Verbal promises made to a child no longer have any weight. You’re technically not a responsible adult, so the law doesn’t apply to you. But you’ve told me now, so I have to act, and I have to do so right away, without delay. I’ll need the details from you, including all the names, so get your brain in gear.’ She looked at the clock on the wall and took out her mobile phone from her bag. ‘So much for our retail therapy.’ Sophie shook her head.

‘Sorry, Mum.’ Jade looked worried. ‘So what will happen? Will she have to go into care? That would be awful.’

‘It’s unlikely. The child safety officers will probably get a court order issued forbidding her parents from taking her out of the country. They’ll probably visit with the police to make sure the order is enforced, and in case family members try to resist.’

‘So she’s likely to stay with her family? Isn’t that dangerous?’

‘Not usually. The council people will assess the risk, but with FGM a court order is usually enough. It’s better for the girl to remain at home with her parents. The problem is cultural, and the parents often mistakenly feel they are doing the right thing.’

‘Would it help if I came along? I feel responsible somehow.’

Sophie thought about this. ‘I don’t think that’s realistic, is it, Jade? It’s thoughtful of you, but let’s leave it for the right people to deal with it.’

‘I know she’s going to be really upset.’ She looked mournfully at her mother. ‘Can’t you be the police presence? Then I could be around and there’d be a familiar face.’

‘No, I couldn’t. It has to be one of the designated team. I can’t break the rules, Jade, not even for you.’ She consulted her watch, and then tapped in the number on her phone. ‘This could take some time, so we might have to skip the rest of the morning. No boutique, I’m afraid.’

Jade sighed. ‘Let’s face it, Mum. That wasn’t going to work anyway, was it?’

It only took half an hour to make the arrangements. Sophie knew who to contact and Jade was at hand to supply the details.

‘Maybe I’d better pop round and see little Asli later,’ Jade said. ‘She’ll hear about it soon enough, but it might be better coming from me. I hope she won’t be too angry with me.’

‘Jade, why do you think she told you about it? Clearly she wanted you to do something. What was the point in telling you otherwise? Particularly if she’s seen that you’re linked to the anti-FGM campaign at school. By all means go and see her, but don’t be apologetic. She did the right thing in telling you, and you did the right thing in telling me. Though I don’t see why you couldn’t have gone to one of your teachers yesterday afternoon, instead of waiting until now.’

‘I told you, she made me promise not to tell them. Anyway, we were in the bus queue and I’d have missed my bus. And you know what teachers are like on a Friday afternoon, Mum. They’re all out of school like a shot. The place was probably empty.’

‘That is a gross exaggeration, young lady. You know very well that your father never gets home before you, even on a Friday. And that’s with you meeting young Jamie for a coffee in town most afternoons before you come home.’

‘How did you know about that?’

It was Sophie’s turn to smirk. ‘My spies are everywhere. Now let’s get a move on. I think the clothes in that first shop are calling to me to come back for a second look. I don’t want this morning to be a total wash-out.’