by Nhys Glover
Ten bodies, all females between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five, were discovered last week when bulldozers unearthed their shallow graves in the barnyard of a derelict farm slated for conversion into an up-market residential complex.
Preliminary tests have determined the skeletons were buried over a period of more than ten years, starting in the late 60s.
Leonard Watkins, who was 59 at the time of his death, had inherited the family farm in 1960, after both his parents were killed in a car accident.
Watkins was well known in the area, and locals were shocked and horrified by the gruesome discoveries. The possibility that their neighbour could have been a serial killer, operating right under their noses for all those years, has sent shock waves through the small community.
Locals were quick to explain how Yewtree Farm had been struggling since an outbreak of foot and mouth shortly after Watkin’s parents’ death. The beleaguered farmer had driven a local taxi part-time to keep the farm solvent.
George Utterly, Watkins closest neighbour, said, “Leonard had a hard time of it, what with his parents’ death and then losing all his stock like that. He was a good enough chap, all things considered. I never had reason to believe he was anything but a hard-working farmer trying to make a go of it in hard times.”
Watkins died of a heart attack in 1980 on his farm, leaving no will and no close relatives. Settlement of his estate was a protracted affair, which finally concluded late last year. The property was then purchased by Harding and Walsh Constructions for conversion into a high-end residential complex.
The identities of the women are as yet unknown. No local girls were reported missing over the period Watkins was presumed to be active.
Adie looked up from the screen, her heart racing even harder with this second story. A serial killer of women in Lewes. A serial killer who was a taxi driver in his spare time. Could he have killed Georgie when he picked her up from the station that night? But the paper said the bodies were from the late 60s and on. Georgie died in 1965.
But the possibility was too real to be ignored. What were a few years when it came to serial killers? There were always bodies that went undiscovered or didn’t fit the MO because he hadn’t developed his unique signature that early.
Excited—no thrilled!—Adie tore up the stairs to the second floor in search of Cage. It didn’t matter what time it was, or that Cage was asleep. She’d possibly cracked the case wide open. She might have at last stopped Winsley from getting hold of this million pounds!
Cage jerked upright the moment she threw open his door. The hall light illuminated his naked chest and rumpled bedding.
“What’s wrong?!” he demanded in a groggy voice, although by the tension in his body she knew he was already fully awake and ready to take action.
“Sorry, sorry. Nothing is wrong. I didn’t mean to worry you. It’s just that I’ve cracked it! I know who killed Georgie Wyatt!” she announced exuberantly.
She covered the few steps to the monstrous bed and threw herself into the man’s arms. In her excitement, she didn’t think of how inappropriate her behavior was. Or how Cage would take it. All she could think about was celebrating. She had solved the second mystery!
For a full minute she sat on Cage’s lap, hugging him tightly. After the initial shock, his arms had come around her, holding her just as tightly as she held him.
When reality finally dawned on her, Adie drew back, feeling the heat of a blush rushing up her neck and into her cheeks. What had she been thinking, accosting Cage in his bed? He’d quit now, she was certain. This had to qualify as sexual harassment, didn’t it? She was his employer and had come into his room without permission. Had thrown herself at him without permission!
Instead of complaining or being annoyed, he shifted her to the edge of the bed and pulled the duvet up around his waist more securely. Meanwhile, Jig had decided to get in on the party and jumped up on the bed as well.
A gruff order had the disappointed animal jumping back down again. He reminded Adie of a naughty child who’d been reprimanded for jumping on the furniture.
“So tell me,” Cage demanded, once Jig was where he belonged.
“I couldn’t get what Roland said out of my head. The not then thing. So I started looking into murders in Lewes. And after a lot of false starts I discovered a serial killer was operating in the area in the late 60s and 70s. He was a farmer, but guess what he did to make ends meet?” She looked at him excitedly, waiting for him to make the leap to the correct answer.
“Taxi driver?” he answered after only a moment.
“Exactly! He died in 1980 and his farm fell into disrepair because he died without a will. When the legalities were finally sorted, the place was sold and developers bought it. While they were digging up the place they discovered skeletons. I’ve only read a couple of newspaper stories so far, but it looks like at least ten young women were buried in the farmyard.
“No local women went missing over that period so I bet he targeted lone women, strangers to the area. Tourists, backpackers, girls like that. They get into Lewes late at night and have no choice but to take a cab when the cabbie promises to find them a B&B in the area. And in Georgie’s case, promises her a trip out to Roland’s place.
“He may even have taken her out there in mid-March. If she was his first, he might have felt the urge when he was taking her out to Roland’s country home that time, but not acted on it until she turned up the next time. By then, he’d have known how easily one missing guest would go unnoticed in the crush of a house-party at Roland’s place.
“The only hitch is that the murders seem to have started late in the 60s. But maybe he started earlier and disposed of Georgie’s body elsewhere.”
Cage shook his head in wonder. “It’s not a smoking gun, but it’s a good possibility. The fact that it wasn’t until the late 80s that the bodies were found makes it more likely they never identified them. I’ll get onto DCI Adams in the morning. He should be able to find out more about the investigation, even if it was outside his area.”
For a few long, embarrassed moments, as the last of the thrill evaporated, Adie and Cage stared at each other. Adie was only too aware that she sat on a bed beside a half-naked man. A man she dreamed of almost every night.
Cage cleared his throat. “I think you better go back to bed. You need to get some sleep tonight, if we’re to be hot on the trail of a serial killer in the morning.”
Adie slid off the bed; glad to be told what to do, but mortified she hadn’t made the move herself first. This could be construed as sexually inappropriate behavior by an employer, she was sure of it.
“Sorry. Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking! Yes, I do. I was thinking I’d solved the mystery. But it could have waited…”
“I’m glad you told me now,” Cage interrupted. “I’m glad you got so excited about what you found. No harm done. But we do need to sleep. Okay?”
She headed for the door, Jig at her heels. “See you in the morning. This is it! This has to be it!”
And now her embarrassment was over, she literally danced out of the room with Jig jumping and yipping at her crazy antics beside her. She heard Cage’s laugh, deep and mellow, as she closed his door behind her and made the short trip across the landing to her own door.
Chapter 16
The following morning, Adie danced down the stairs to the kitchen, the high from the night before no less diminished. If she had bags under her eyes, it hardly mattered. She had solved the mystery. Or was close to it, at least. Winsley hadn’t won this one!
As soon as she entered the kitchen, Cage handed her a coffee with a big grin. She grinned back.
“Good to see you still have a bounce in your step. Get any sleep at all?” he asked good-naturedly.
She grimaced guiltily. “Yeah, no such luck. I was too wound up. But I rested, which is something, right? And there’ll be time to sleep tonight. What time can we ring the detective?”
“Eight? I
don’t think cops work nine to five. Anyway, we won’t be waking him up by that time, even if he’s not at work yet.”
She nodded her agreement and sat down to enjoy her coffee. Outside, the morning was shaping up to be lovely. And Jig, who had come down earlier than she had, was romping in the morning sunshine. It was a beautiful sight.
“I’m sorry I came into your room and hugged you last night. It was inappropriate. It will never happen again, I promise. I didn’t even think about what I was doing. I just needed to tell you what I’d discovered.”
“I know. It’s fine. I said that last night. You don’t have to keep apologizing all the time. Huh,” he grunted as if he’d just thought of something. “You’ve stopped doing that. Apologizing for every little thing. I hadn’t noticed until you started doing it again now. I think that’s progress.”
She grinned at him. “I can learn, you know. You don’t have to keep telling me.”
“It’s not about learning. It’s about you starting to claim your right to exist. You’re getting more confidence in yourself. As crazy as Minerva’s plans were, I actually think they’re doing you good. You looked great last night, and you spoke to Roland like an equal. There was no sign of the shy, insecure country hick anywhere.”
Adie realized he was right. She hadn’t even considered it. They were on a mission, and finding out what happened to Georgie was all that mattered. Her own insecurities had no place in the situation.
“Thanks. I thought you looked pretty good in your suit as well. Very businesslike.”
He grimaced. “I hate wearing suits.”
“I hate wearing fancy dresses. I guess it’s lucky we don’t have to dress up very often.”
“You probably will, once you settle in to your new lifestyle.”
She shook her head. “Part of having lots of money, I’ve decided, is doing what I like. Swanning around with a bunch of celebs will never be my thing. Therefore, I choose not to do it.”
“What about charity balls and such?” he pressed teasingly.
“If I make out a big enough check no one will care if I’m there or not. I’d rather contribute the money I would have spent buying a new dress for the occasion.”
Cage laughed as he rose to start making breakfast. “The unsocial socialite. I can just see it. You might even start a trend!”
Laughing, Adie threw an eraser at him. Ducking easily out of the way, he turned to pick the projectile out of the sink, where it had landed.
“You do know you don’t have to correct your mistakes by rubbing them out, right? A line through an entry or a word would be sufficient.”
“Leave me alone, you big bully. So I’m a perfectionist,” she declared in mock outrage.
Cage laughed again, loud and joyously. The sound must have carried, because Jig came dashing to the French windows to be let in.
After breakfast, Cage made the call to the detective. She didn’t expect instant answers, but just having someone in the know on the case would take them a step closer to their goal.
Adams answered on the first ring with a gruff recitation of his rank and name.
“It’s Adie Reynolds and Cage Donovan here,” Cage said. “We think we’ve solved the mystery of Georgie Reynolds. Could you find out what you can about a serial killer operating out of Lewes in Sussex? The bodies of his victims were discovered on his farm in 1988.”
“Lewes? What the hell would that case have to do with yours?” he demanded bad-temperedly.
“We tracked down the boyfriend. His name is Roland Hughes, the Viscount of Lewes. He told us Georgie was supposed to come to his country place that night but never turned up. This Leonard Watkins had a farm in the area and drove a taxi on the side. We think he picked her up from the station. That’s probably how he found his other victims as well.”
“Supposition isn’t evidence. What do you want from me?” he demanded a little less belligerently now.
He was listening, which was something.
“As I said. We need to know as much about the bodies as we can. The news story Adie read said the first body found was buried in the late 60s.”
“That was probably an educated guess. Back in the 80s, determining the time of internment was an iffy process. And the DNA identification of remains didn’t start being used until the mid 90s. They could have determined the sex and approximate ages of the victims from their skeletal remains back then, but little else for definite.”
Adie spoke up, her excitement making her brave. “You mean the oldest skeleton might be earlier than the late 60s? Will any attempt have been made recently to discover the identities of the women? Maybe there were possessions belonging to the girls in the farm. Souvenirs.”
“I’ll look into it. But exact identification of skeletal remains without a DNA sample to compare them to…”
“I might have a sample.” Adie declared, before he could finish.
“I thought she has no surviving relatives.”
That shocked Adie. Had the detective been making his own inquiries since they spoke to him? Maybe having Georgie’s records stolen had made him curious.
“She doesn’t. But I think I have her hair on a hairbrush. My aunt kept it for sentimental reasons. The brush I mean, not the hair. Just like she kept the mink coat where we found the train ticket to Lewes. As my aunt was a blonde and the hair in the brush is red, I think the chances are very good that they belong to Georgie.”
For a few long moments the detective was silent. When he spoke again his tone was admiring.
“You state a good case, Miss Reynolds. Let me look into it. Would you be willing to pay to have the DNA test expedited, if a possible match is identified? Our labs are already months behind with current cases. Cold cases have little to no chance of—”
“Absolutely. Use a private lab if that will get us the results sooner. I’ll pay.”
“Good enough. Leave it with me.”
And then he was gone, leaving Adie and Cage staring at each other, lost for words.
“I think we may have piqued the detective’s interest,” Cage finally said.
“I think you’re right. Did you pick up on the fact he’d looked into Georgie’s family? We didn’t tell him Rory was dead. And we didn’t know if she had any other family. I got the feeling from the journal that Georgie either had no family or had washed her hands of that family long before Minerva met her.”
“I have a feeling we’ll be finding out what we need to know pretty quickly. Our cold case just got very warm,” Cage said with a laugh.
There was silence from the detective for several days. In that time Adie arranged for yet another evaluation from Sotheby’s. The furniture had been steadily piling up in the barn, all well-documented items from the file. As a consequence, the rooms in the house were growing less and less clogged with furniture. It was becoming easier to make their way across the rooms without having to climb Mt Everest to do it.
Adie couldn’t wait until the place was cleared out so she could redecorate and make it her own. Though she knew well enough that she could buy homes anywhere in the world she wanted—and probably even had houses in far-flung places Minerva already owned—she knew Beckside Farm would always be home to her now. It wasn’t just the house, or even Cage and Jig that made it home, it was the villagers she’d begun to get to know. People who accepted her as one of them, just because she was Minerva’s niece. It was a good feeling to belong somewhere for the first time in her life.
The removalist’s vans had come and gone that afternoon, taking not only the items the valuer had approved for auction, but also the horrendous pink bedroom suite he’d determined would sell for six figures. It turned out that the manufacturer of the monstrosity had only created a limited number of bedroom suites by that particular designer in that shade of pink, so a complete set in perfect condition sent the value skyrocketing. Once again, Adie was made aware that good taste and value didn’t always go hand in hand.
She and Cage had just seen the van
s off and flopped onto the old chairs in the living room with fresh mugs of coffee when Cage’s phone rang. It was in the kitchen and he had to drag himself into the other room to find it. Adie, every bone aching, so exhausted she could barely lift an arm, waited to hear who had called. It could be anyone.
“Yes, I understand. We’ll expect the officer in the morning. Adie will be over the moon to hear this,” she heard Cage say.
Officer? What kind of officer?
When Cage returned there was a bounce to his step, as if the call had infused fresh energy into him.
“What? What’s going on?” she demanded impatiently.
His grin told her he was intentionally making her sweat.
“Cage! Don’t be mean. What’s going on?” she wheedled.
His grin grew bigger still. “It seems you missed a few bodies. Or didn’t keep reading the newspaper reports for more information. By the time they scoured the farm they found fifteen skeletons. The oldest probably dates from the mid 60s. It may well be Georgie. There were no possessions belonging to the victims. Everything was probably thrown out when the new owners took possession. Or was stolen in the years it remained empty. DNA is going to be the only way these women will ever be identified. So far, only three have been identified. All were Europeans backpacking in England at the time they were killed.
“The police came to the same conclusion we did, that the killer found his victims among the passengers who rode in his cab. If Georgie proves to be one of his victims, it will solidify that suspicion. A cop will be on our doorstep first thing to take possession of the hairbrush. After that, it will only be a matter of time.”
Adie felt light-headed with excitement. It was really happening. Georgie was going to be found at last. She would have helped her aunt find closure for her friend. It was just a pity Rory didn’t live long enough to learn the truth. Although how finding out your mother died a gruesome death at the hands of a serial killer—as she ran away from a mobster and an abusive ex—could have helped him get closure she wasn’t sure.