Three Little Maids (27 page)

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Authors: Patricia Scott

BOOK: Three Little Maids
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‘Michael Berkley. I could be wrong but I think he’s the Mayor’s son. He looks screwed up. Ready to burst into tears. Had we better call his father? He’s young. About eighteen. He’ll need a brief.’

‘Wheel him in. Let’s just see what he wants to tell us first, Jack.’

‘Okay, sir. Righto. Inspector Kent will see you now. You can go on in. Take the first door along the corridor on the left hand side, Mr. Berkley.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Good afternoon, Mr. Berkley.’ Kent viewed the youngster across his desk. He was hardly more than nineteen if that. More like eighteen. He’d seen him recently in the company of Simon Sherlborne. He looked as if he was primed for a breakdown.

‘Good afternoon, Inspector.’

Kent held out his hand and indicated a chair. ‘Sit down please.’

‘You have taken Raymond Perkins in for questioning. And I understand he’s attempted suicide.’

‘That’s right. So what’s it to you? Do you know him personally? Do you want to give some evidence against him? Or to help him?’

‘No definitely not, Inspector. But you have the wrong person. I want to confess to killing those three girls.’

‘You do? And what makes you think I will believe what you are saying, Mr. Berkley. It’s not April the first. And I’m not a priest, I have warned you already. I don’t want to be messed about.’

Michael Berkley leaned forward in his chair. His eyes burned in his white face. ‘I killed those girls, Inspector. It’s down to me entirely. Raymond Perkins did not, could not have done it.’

Kent sighed heavily. ‘Why have you come in, Mr. Berkley? Why are you wasting valuable police time? Have you any proof of what you say? And what motive have you to kill any one of them? Maureen for instance.’

‘She was after anything in trousers. She was a slag. She pestered me.’

‘That doesn’t give you the right to kill her. And Yvette? What did she do to you? Why did you want to kill her?’

The answer came quickly. ‘She was after my father’s money. She would have ruined him and our family.’

‘And the last girl, Jodie. You didn’t know her. Did you?’

‘No. I saw her walking out with Raymond in the park. Maureen made his life miserable and I thought Jodie would do the same. So when I saw Jodie left on her own, I-I went over and chatted to her. She was on her way out, she said. She was running out on him. He was going to be upset all over again.’

‘You seem to be worried about him. Why is that? Was he a close friend?’

‘No, he wasn’t. But I know he hasn’t had a good deal out of life so far. His mother ran out on him. Not like me. I can’t let him get blamed for what he never did.’

‘It’s admirable of you, Mr. Berkley. Michael, isn’t it? What do you think your father will say when he gets to hear about this? He’s not going to be any too happy about it, is he?’

‘I don’t care. I wish to make a statement.’

In answer to his buzzer Kent pressed under his desk, Turner put his head round the door.

‘Ah, Turner. You’d better stay. You may have a solicitor present, Mr. Berkley.’

‘I don’t need one. You can make it as official as you like.’

‘Come along, Mr. Berkley. We’ll take a statement from you now.’

‘Inspector Kent switched on the recording machine. 3pm August 13th in Interview room. Detective Sergeant Turner present. And Inspector Kent interviewing. Name of interviewee. Michael Berkley.’

‘How old are you, Mr. Berkley?’

‘Eighteen next month.’

‘Eighteen in a
months’ time. Let’s hope you will have gained more common sense by the time you attain your freedom to vote.’

‘Why won’t you listen to me, Inspector?’

‘Well then. Can you tell me first of all how you did you murder these girls? I want to hear all the details please. And where did you take them before you killed them?’

‘I took them to the Cricket Pavilion.’

‘The Cricket Pavilion, Turner. And how did you manage that, sir?’

‘I have a key. I had a copy made especially.’

‘And now, tell us how exactly did you kill them?’

‘I strangled them with my hands. These hands.’ He held them out. ‘I’m very strong and it was all over quickly.’

‘And can you fill in the details for me, please? Did you attempt to assault them? Wouldn’t they have sex with you? Come on now, don’t be shy.’

Colour flooded his cheeks. Kent felt sorry for him. He was so obviously floundering and struggling to get it right. Turner was making rumbling noises in his throat. He felt uncomfortable and wanted the interview to close. It was a time waster. But what was the real motive behind it? Could he believe that Michael was trying to help Raymond Perkins? If anything it made the case against him more concrete. Why had he come?

‘I didn’t touch them in that way.’

‘Come on now. You don’t drive do you? You don’t know anything about these three murders other than what you’ve heard or read in the newspapers do you, Mr. Berkley?’

‘Yes. No.’

‘If this gets to your father’s ears I don’t think he will be very pleased, young Michael.’

‘No. I suppose not.’ Tears were filling his eyes. His face was crumpling. ‘Will you have to tell him?’

‘Look, if you thought you were helping Raymond Perkins. It’s definitely a No-No. Or was it your father you were trying to help? You had the wrong idea entirely. So give it up. His solicitor will be more help to him than your fake confession. How you thought you could make it stick is beyond me.’

‘Switching off the machine at three-thirty pm. Mr. Berkley is now leaving the interview room.’

‘Good day to you, Mr. Berkley. I don’t want to see you in here again for any reason or I might be tempted to book you for making a public nuisance of yourself.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘What did you make of it, Turner.’

‘I don’t know, guv. He seemed genuinely worried. If it wasn’t because he thinks Raymond is innocent, he must have a darn good reason to try to mess our case up. It must be his father he’s worried about. It’s got to be.’

‘Well, we shan’t ever know now. I’m still not happy about what we’ve got against Perkins. Prints of two girls in the van, but not Yvette’s. Can we make it stick? I ask myself. I suppose he could have got an extra key for the chapel. And Maureen might have met Raymond there occasionally. Despite his preference for the coffin room as a venue. And maybe Roger used the chapel too. Despite his disclaiming that nothing actually happened between them.’

‘All three girls must have been taken there, guv. Who did Maureen think she was meeting? And Yvette. I would say she thought it was Tom Berkley. How did Raymond manage it? If he did - he’s some cool character. And more devious than he appears on the surface.’

 

57

 

He knocked at her door. She hadn’t wanted to lie in wait for him. She couldn’t allow him to think that. She put on the kettle.

‘Come in.’

‘It was your day out on the van, wasn’t it? How did it go, Viviane?’

‘Okay. How did yours go?’

‘Funny you should ask. It was weird. This afternoon your son’s friend, Michael Berkley, walked into the station and said he wanted to confess to all three murders.’


Why- for God’s sake?’

‘I don’t know. None of it held water of course. He hadn’t got a clue about any of it. He said he lured the girls to the Cricket Pavilion of all places.’

‘What on earth made him do it? Was he doing a Sydney Carton for his dad by any chance? Look Jon, do you fancy something to eat? You haven’t had anything I take it? Will ham salad do you?’

‘Yes, lovely, thanks. That’ll be fine. Sorry I seem to be making a habit of eating down here, Viviane.’

‘So what did he actually say?’

‘He seemed to be far more concerned about Raymond Perkins. He said Raymond wasn’t responsible for the murders. He definitely didn’t like Maureen Carey. He might have been sorely tempted to be rid of her by the way he spoke. But I think it was more than likely his
dad he was worried about. But he obviously didn’t want to give us cause to suspect Tom Berkley.’

‘So you’ve had an eventful day,’ she said putting out the ham. ‘Some cold new potatoes do you? Tomatoes?’

‘That’ll be fine, thanks.’

‘It’s your birthday soon, isn’t it?’

He leaned against the dresser and stared at her as she filled up his plate. Then his face cleared and he grinned. ‘I’d almost forgotten it myself. How did you work that out?’

‘Saw the birthday cards that came this morning in the post.’

‘Then it’s no good pretending I’m only thirty-five still, is it?’ He smiled back at her cheerfully and she felt a warm glow fill her
up. ‘I’m forty-six.’

‘I know. You’re the same age as Bill would be now. You’re two days older than him because he told me when you celebrated your birthday before his. So in Pealinghurst when I spotted this merry old fellow sitting on a top shelf in the village antique shop, I couldn’t resist him,’ she said gleefully whipping open the dresser cupboard where she’d hidden the Toby Jug she handed it over to him.

‘Wow!’ He reached out kissed her twice on each cheek before she could stop him. ‘You’ve made my day for me! Thanks.’

‘I thought you’d be off and out again so early in the morning. I’d rather give it to you now. You haven’t gotten another like it, have you? I don’t know much about them. So it might not be as good as I thought.’

He was examining it now. ‘It’s great. In good nick. No cracks that I can see. I think you’ve bought me a treasure. Thanks, Viviane, for everything.’

It was while they were eating she wondered whether she should mention the meeting between Michael and Aiden Ludlam or not. Then remembering Michael’s confession attempt, and the boy’s anxious look that he’d worn throughout lunch, decided that she should.

‘I met up with Aiden Ludlam today. He’d run Michael Berkley over to the church to take some brass rubbings.’ He listened attentively as he filled him in on it.

‘Michael was definitely worried about something. It looked as if he’d been spilling out his worries to Aiden by the cartload before we met up. They’d arranged to meet there by Aiden’s suggestion. I suppose I could have imagined that he was walking on coals of fire...’

‘I doubt it. So young Michael bares his soul to the preacher man and then comes walking into the station prepared to take the can back for the crimes. Whatever made him do it, I should hardly think that it was on Aiden Ludlam’s advice.’

 

58

 

Esmeralda picked up the small silver crucifix and its broken chain off the green matting under her table in the Tarot booth. She knew she’d felt something worrying her for the past few days. And it had to do with Yvette. And now knew why she’d come along this evening to open up the booth.

She sat quietly with the silver crucifix in her hand. Yvette had lost it out of her purse when she’d tipped out the money onto the table. Yvette was upset, she hadn’t noticed her loss. She would have to see that her mother had it. The police would give her the address if she asked for it.

The crucifix was warm in her hand, Esmeralda closed her eyes leant back in her chair and pictured a black case in her mind. And then... A letter. She knew that this was important. Knew it had to do with Yvette. She saw the envelope next. It was addressed to Yvette and there was something else... An anklet, a gold one, so real she could read the name engraved on it... Yvette.

What did it all mean? She had to tell the Inspector that there was a letter he needed to find and the gold anklet. He would have to believe her. If he was a
sceptic; she couldn’t help him. Or Yvette, who was trying to form these impressions in her mind. She had to help them both.

She would phone him about it. First thing. And trust that he would understand how she received this information. And not think she was trying to con him to suit her own purpose.

 

59

 

 

‘Alice Wilberforce, you’re hiding something from me and I mean to find out what it is before this day is out.’

Thora Wilberforce stood over her sister’s bed, with a threatening look on her gaunt face, her arms folded tightly across her bony chest. She meant what she said. Alice shrunk back against the pillows, her lips were pursed together tightly, and there was a rebellious look in her tear washed eyes.

‘Go away, Thora Wilberforce. I’m not listening. Shut the door after you. I’ve got nothing to say to you.’

‘It’s no use behaving like a silly child, Alice,’ Thora said grimly. ‘If you won’t tell me, I’ll have to look for it, won’t I? And find it I shall.’

‘You’re wrong. You won’t find anything.’

Alice’s bottom lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears afresh as she watched Thora going through her wardrobe. All the pockets in her suit jackets and coats were searched. And the suit case and hat boxes taken out and the contents examined meticulously as if Thora’s life depended on it. The chest of drawers followed. Thora was unable to hide her agitation. Alice sniffed and gulped, and snatched out clumps of tissues from the box beside her on the bed.

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