A Grave Death

by Wendy Cartmell

  In a flash, he decided he’d show them. He wasn’t sure how yet. But he’d hatch a fool proof plan and make sure he got what was rightfully his. He forgot all about searching through the remainder of his mother’s things and concentrated on his computer and the Dean family.

  Judith called up the stairs a few times, asking if he wanted a cup of tea, something to eat, a bit of company, but her voice never really penetrated his consciousness, coming as if from under the sea. Merely an irritating noise in the background. He ignored her.

  By the time he was finished, his plan had a framework. He sat back in his chair and stretched his back. Surprised, he realised that the room was dark. Glancing over to the open curtains he saw the street outside was lit by orange streetlights and he shivered. Grabbing a sweatshirt from the back of the chair, he fumbled his way into it. Standing he went towards the door to tell Judith his good news. But as his hand reached for the handle he stopped and stilled. No. It was best she didn’t know. That no one knew. It would be his secret. His and his mother’s. At least for now. He’d surprise Judith later. Once everything was done.

  51

  Starting with the surviving children, Holly’s first job was to check their wills. Just in case she’d missed a revealing clause. She pontificated that she might find one hidden in a web of legal jargon that would effectively disinherit one of the three Dean siblings. So instead of skimming the documents to get the gist of the wills, she read each clause and sub-set to ensure there was nothing untoward. As expected, she drew a blank. There was the usual standard legalise, but nothing raising any red flags.

  She then turned her attention to the wills of Joshua Dean and Anne Dean, laying the copies of each side by side. And there it was. In black and white. An anomaly in the will of Anne Dean. The two wills mirrored each other in all but one potentially very important way. Anne left her estate to ‘all of my children in equal shares’ but Joshua’s named the three children, Paul, Kevin and Jill.

  Thinking that the difference was strange and wondering if it could perhaps be something she should investigate, she delved once more into the boxes Paul had provided. It took her two hours to go through them, but unfortunately, she couldn’t find any mention of another child that either Anne Dean had had, or even that Joshua Dean had fathered. But what she did find was lots of correspondence between Anne and her friend called Ada. She only had Ada’s letters of course, not the corresponding ones from Anne to Ada, but those mentioned details of previous letters and in one it was spelled out that, ‘your secret is safe with me’.

  Holly sat back and stretched, wondering if it was at all possible that that secret could be the existence of a fourth child? After all, Anne’s will said, ‘all my children’. Could it have been a sneaky way of ensuring that a child, presumably born out of wedlock, might inherit in the future? Glancing at her watch, Holly saw it was already 2pm. She’d been working on this for 6 hours straight and she knew she desperately needed a break. Her work station was littered with empty water bottles and the Costa take away cup that she’d finished hours ago. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that whilst she’d been regularly taking on fluids, she’d not eaten anything in nearly 8 hours. No wonder she was feeling exhausted. She needed fuel, and quickly.

  Standing, Holly saw that Ciaran was working away, reviewing CCTV footage, as was Crane. Both their heads were firmly fixed on their screens. She smiled at the thought of all of them beavering away to help their boss. Anderson was an old-time copper, but one who knew the power of technology in cracking a case – as long as he wasn’t the one who had to use it. It also spoke volumes as to how much he was admired and respected by the three of them, that they would put so much effort into looking again at a case they had already worked once.

  Neither man looked up as she turned and walked away, intent on getting some fresh air and sunshine and something to eat. It would probably be a good idea if she fed Ciaran and Crane as well. She also decided that while she was out, she’d work out what her next move would be.

  52

  As Holly walked back into the Major Crimes unit, this time she got a reaction from Crane and Ciaran. But it wasn’t her presence, it was the smell of the take away pizza she was carrying.

  As she passed the box around and handed out napkins, the two men were suitably grateful.

  ‘Life saver.’

  ‘Nice one, Hols.’

  ‘What a great idea.’

  She sat and bit into a juicy veggie pizza. She smiled as she realised that it showed how pleased they had been to be given food that neither had complained about the lack of meat.

  Once she’d finished eating and had cleaned her hands with an anti-bacterial wipe, Holly grabbed a handful of Ada’s letters. Somewhere there could be an address for Anne’s friend. Moving the letters, however, revealed a small leather-bound book underneath them. Of course, Holly realised she was looking at Anne’s address book. Thanking God for the era where everything had to be recorded on paper, she grabbed the book. The pages were covered with Anne’s neat writing. Finding the entry for Ada, Holly saw the woman had moved several times over the years, each old address crossed out and replaced with the new one underneath. The final address was in Memphis, Tennessee and was complete with a phone number. Holly had no way of knowing when that entry had been made and if Ada was still alive, which she very much doubted if she were honest. But there was nothing to be lost by ringing the phone number.

  She pulled the phone towards her and with shaking fingers started to press the buttons. After the electronic beeps of the numbers being dialled finished, it seemed an age before the American ring tone of one long repeated beep started. She puffed out her breath. One hurdle over, it was a live phone number.

  With the sound of the elongated ring echoing through the handset, Holly jigged one foot up and down. Come on, come on, she silently pleaded. Please let something come of this. As the seconds went by and turned into minutes her hope faded. She was about to kill the call and try again later, when a voice said, ‘Hello? Sorry I was in the back yard.’

  ‘Back yard?’ she managed.

  ‘Yes, gardening. Can I help you?’

  ‘Oh, gosh, I hope so.’ Holly’s face was burning with embarrassment and she was glad it wasn’t a video call.

  ‘Hey, is that an English accent?’

  That was the prod Holly needed. ‘Yes, yes, it is. Sorry, I’m calling from the UK, a town called Aldershot. I work with the police and…’

  ‘Aldershot? Aldershot in England? Hey, what do you know, my mother had a friend who lived there.’

  This was it. Holly had done it. ‘Your mother?’

  ‘Yeah, my mother was Ada and her friend was Anne someone or other. I can’t remember her surname, but they regularly exchanged letters over many years. Is that what you’re ringing about?’

  ‘Yes, yes, it is! Oh, thank goodness. I was terribly afraid the number wouldn’t be working anymore.’

  ‘But you’re from the police, you said? Is there anything wrong?’

  ‘Yes, I am, but no there’s not. Look, it’s probably best that I start again. I’m making enquiries into the Dean family here in Aldershot. They own and run a company called Dean Engineering. We’re in the middle of a murder enquiry and I’m trying to get as much background information on the family that I can. That’s all I can tell you at the moment. Can I ask you about your mother?’

  ‘Gee, a murder? Wow! Well, I’ll help if I can. What do you want to know?’

  ‘Um, what do I need to know?’ Holly realised she wasn’t prepared for this conversation. Had never expected to reach someone who could help at all. ‘First of all, what is your name?’

  ‘Paul.’

  Holly nearly dropped the telephone. ‘Did you say Paul?’

  ‘Yeah, there’s a kind of cute story there. My mother and her friend Anne were pregnant at the same time, although Anne was in the UK and mother was here in the States. They thought it would be fun, if they both had boys, to give them the same name. A
nd they did. So they did!’

  ‘Yes, um, that is cute,’ Holly agreed. ‘Look, would you mind if I got my colleague to call you back in a few minutes? I’m sure he’d be able to tell you what’s going on and ask all the right questions to get the information we need. I’m just an analyst, you see, not a detective.’

  ‘Yes, for sure. If I don’t answer, keep ringing, as I’ll be …’

  ‘In the back yard,’ Holly finished for him.

  ‘Right.’

  The line went dead. Paul had put the phone down. At last Holly remembered to breathe and dragged great gulps of air into her lungs.

  ‘Crane,’ she called. ‘Could you spare a minute?’

  53

  Crane replaced the telephone handset with a clatter and blew out a breath.

  ‘Well?’ Holly said, her leg jigging up and down again.

  ‘Well, according to Ada’s son, the big secret was that Anne Clements had had a little girl after a relationship with a US soldier, who was killed before the child was born. She’d given up the baby to the charity Dr Barnardo’s for adoption and called her Heather – Heather Clements. Oh, and Anne spent the war years working in a munitions factory in Chorley.’

  ‘At last,’ said Ciaran. ‘Something to work with, but where the hell’s Chorley? Never heard of it.’

  Crane clicked a few keys on his computer. ‘According to Wikipedia it’s about half way between Blackpool and Manchester, although it seems pretty near to Liverpool as well. It’s a Lancashire market town.’

  ‘Can’t say I know anywhere north of Watford,’ said Ciaran.

  ‘Join the army, lad, see the world!’

  ‘Yeah right, and turn out like you, Boss? No thanks I’ll stay a Southerner.’

  Laughing Crane turned to Holly, ‘Well done again,’ he said.

  ‘We’re not there yet, though,’ said Holly. ‘I need to carry on.’

  ‘Yes, we need to find Heather Clements, or at least find out what happened to her. What’s your next move, Hols?’

  ‘To start on the Clements family tree.’

  ‘Right, you do that. Ciaran continue with the CCTV.’

  ‘And you, boss?’

  ‘I’m off to the coffee shop. I think we all need a treat to celebrate, don’t you?’

  ‘Too right,’ said Holly. ‘Now, leave me alone you two, I need to concentrate.’

  Now Holly had the information it was the obvious place to start. Her biggest hope was that Anne’s adoptive parents had kept her name as Anne had asked. Even if she’d been known by another surname, her birth certificate should show the name Heather Clements. Heather Clements should appear on any official records.

  Delving through the census records for Chorley, 10 years after her birth, she found an Anne Clements Stirling, living in Chorley with her parents, David Stirling and Kathy Stirling. That was the equivalent of a nugget of gold to a prospector and Holly couldn’t resist doing a fist pump. But she couldn’t stop yet, not while she was on a roll. She was beginning to feel the addiction of finding the information she needed, hidden in millions of records. She vaguely heard first Ciaran and then Crane leave and mumbled something she thought suitable, without taking her eyes off her computer screen.

  Next she had to see if Heather Clements Stirling had ever married. Thinking about the age of someone marrying at that time, she decided to hunt the years when Heather would have been between 18 and 25 years old as a starting point. She set up a search of the Registry of Births Deaths and Marriages for the Chorley area and then leaned back to stretch out her spine, shoulders and neck. Glancing around the office she saw she was alone. The daylight through the windows was fading, the shadows lengthening. She must go home soon, but not until she knew if the search had given her any information.

  It wasn’t long before Holly hit pay dirt. Heather Clements Stirling had married Simon Monaghan at Chorley Register Office at the age of 20. All good so far. Now she needed to know if Heather and Simon had had a son. Just for the hell of it, she wondered if Heather had been pregnant when she married. Turning once again to the same Register of Births, Deaths and Marriages, she found the birth of one Brian Monaghan.

  But that’s where her euphoria ended. From then on, she couldn’t find any mention of Heather Clements Stirling, Simon Monaghan, or Brian Monaghan, at least not in the Chorley area.

  By now Holly was unable to see straight and needed to go home. She’d been concentrating hard and been completely immersed in her work, so she hadn’t noticed the time. Glancing at the clock she saw it was nearly 10pm. Despite her elation at making such good progress, she realised it made sense to go home, get some sleep and carry on first thing in the morning. The last thing she wanted to do was to make a mistake through tiredness and then any evidence she found might be thrown out.

  Her better judgement won, but it was with some regret that she closed down her computers. She was so close. Could she be the one to crack the case?

  54

  Holly was at her work station by 7am the next morning. In truth she’d been up since 5 am but thought that if she went into work then, people would think she was crackers. Or at least even stranger than she already appeared to be. But Holly wasn’t one to worry about what other people thought. She was generally static in her dress of combat type trousers and tee-shirts, but liked to have fun with the colour of her hair, which could be streaked with pink, red, blue, or any other colour that took her fancy.

  As she waited for the machines to wake up, she chewed on a piece of her hair. A nervous gesture, she knew. She’d tried to play poker, but she had so many ‘tells’ she’d given up, as she lost every time. She dropped her hair and swung her legs instead, the trainers reaching up under her desk. At last they were ready.

  The first thing to check was Simon Monaghan, the father of Brian. She wondered if he’d previously been in trouble with the police, so set up a search on the police databases. Thinking about the other databases she could use, she began to make a list of possible occupations that would flag up on her computer. Police. Prison. Armed Forces. Then there were the records the police had access to – HMRC, Benefits. There were also credit checking agencies. With all that information at her fingertips, it couldn’t be that hard – could it?

  Crane and Ciaran arrived, so she chatted with them for a while, bringing them up to date on her searches, but not the results, drank a herbal tea and generally got in everyone’s way until an alarm bleeped on her system. Scurrying back to her work station, she saw she had a hit. The Armed Forces. More specifically the British Army. Now she needed his army history. There was only one person she knew that could help her with that. Sgt Billy Williams on Aldershot Garrison, a member of the Special Investigations Branch of the Military Police.

  Luckily Billy was on duty that morning and was in the Aldershot office. She explained what she needed. At first he was reluctant to share Brian Monaghan’s service record, but after a suitable amount of pleading and mentioning Derek Anderson’s and Crane’s names, he eventually capitulated and said he’d call her back.

  ‘Can I hold on?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Well that way you’ll do it straight away and not think you will, but then get distracted by some other urgent request or phone call. So if it’s alright with you, I’ll hold on.’

  ‘Alright,’ Billy conceded. ‘But only because Crane needs it.’

  ‘Thanks, you’re a star.’

  Billy fell silent and Holly could hear the clicking of a keyboard in the background.

  ‘Simon Monaghan, you said?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you spelling it M o n a g h a n? or M o n a g a h a n?’

  ‘The first one.’

  ‘I’m glad you said that. In that case I’ve found your man. I’ll copy the record and send it to you.’

  ‘By email? Now?’

  ‘Yes, Holly, by email and now. Now give me your email address.’

  Once Holly had done that and passed on her grovelling thanks, she hung up
and opened her email. She didn’t have to wait long before Billy’s email hit her account. Opening the file, she started to go through it. She was particularly interested in what had happened to him from the date of his marriage. And there it was. He’d been posted to Aldershot and moved there when Brian would have been about a year old. Aldershot. Dear God. Could Brian Monaghan still be in the Aldershot area? Was he their killer?

  Taking several deep breaths, she set up a search to find any information on the family in the Aldershot area in the Births Death and Marriage Register records and decided to try the divorce records just for the hell of it. And that was the one that she got a hit on. It seemed that Heather’s marriage hadn’t lasted long and she had been divorced from her husband five years later. Okay but where had they gone from there? Or had they gone anywhere? And so it was back to the census records, this time for Aldershot.

  At 2 o’clock she texted Anderson asking him to come back to the office from Winchester after the day’s proceedings. He messaged back saying it looked like they’d be finished by about 3.30, so he should be there by 4.30. She then sent messages to Crane and Ciaran asking them to be there as well.

  What’s this all about? Crane messaged.

  Wait till the meeting! She replied, for she wanted to get all her ducks in order before facing the team again. She’d done a good job the other week, which had given her the confidence to stand up and speak. But she needed to make sure her information was accurate. The thought of presenting the wrong information, made her hands shake and she had to take several deep breaths to calm down. She resolved to check her information. Just one more time.

  55

  Brian

  The following morning Brian was almost glad that his little company was going under as it gave him the freedom to concentrate on making his plans. There were no irritating employees asking daft questions, the ‘Closed’ sign was on the door so there were no bloody idiots asking about jobs, and as the firm was doing so badly, no phone calls with clients wanting candidates. Yes, it was just fine the way it was.