Later, they would catch the evening train to London and the following morning would speak to Detective Inspector Shelton and talk through his investigation of the car crash.
‘I would like to go and see the crash site,’ Henry said.
Mickey nodded. ‘Near Matlock in Derbyshire,’ he said. ‘The house party was close by, only five miles from the crash site. I have contacted the owners of the house and they have agreed to speak to us though they think they can tell us little more. There should have been a guest list in with the evidence from the original investigation, but I could find none. I have asked the Belmonts to produce one for us. I think it would be useful to speak with those who claimed to have seen Faun get into the car.’
Henry nodded approval. ‘Presumably they knew the girl well enough to recognize her,’ he said. ‘The witness statements give no sense of how close they were, or how certain. They are slight and scant from what I’ve seen so far. Two girls who saw her from the window, a young man smoking on the driveway when the car was driven away and who claims to have seen Everson get into the car with a girl that he assumed was Faun. It was a summer afternoon so they would have been clearly visible. One of the girls mentions that Faun was dressed in red and she saw a girl in a red dress get into the car, but how many girls with red dresses would have been at the party? The other seemed more insistent that it was Faun Moran but …’
‘Indeed,’ Mickey agreed.
‘I found no photographs of the crash site.’
‘Some were taken, but where they are now I have no idea,’ Mickey admitted.
Henry frowned, sometimes things were mislaid, but it was unusual. The record-keeping at the Yard was generally meticulous. He drained his coffee cup and set it down. ‘We have two big questions to answer, Mickey. Two major questions at least. Who was the young woman in the car and where has Faun Moran been all this time?’
‘Not to mention who was the man on the beach and how she died.’
‘If we discover where she has been then I believe we will discover the rest,’ Henry told him. ‘If the girl in the car was a guest at the party then someone would have reported her missing by now. Or so I would have thought.’
‘No one was reported missing,’ Mickey confirmed. ‘Though when I was speaking to the Belmonts earlier they told me that not all of the guests were invited – some had come along with others and there were also musicians and professional dancers and hired help. They warned me that their list might be very incomplete.’
‘And what was this party in aid of?’ Henry asked.
‘Actually I believe it was some kind of benefit for musicians and actors who have fallen on hard times. The Belmonts are very keen on that kind of thing apparently. The invited guests had paid a fair amount to attend, apparently, and if they brought additional people with them they were expected to contribute further, but there is no telling who did or how much. I’m told Mrs Belmont sees herself as a patron of the arts and I get the impression Mr Belmont prefers to just let her get on with it. It was the younger Belmonts who were actually giving the party, two daughters and a son. One daughter will be there when we go up; the other siblings are away from home.’
Henry nodded, satisfied. Mickey had laid the groundwork in his usual efficient manner. So, he thought, the young woman in the car could possibly have been a guest, more likely someone who had come with a guest, or someone who was performing. Why had no one missed her? Or if they had and reported her absence, had they not known that she had been at the party? Or was she someone who was expected to be out of touch, so her lack of contact had not been noticed. Mickey’s wife, Belle, was an actress and until recently had continued to tour. She had written home several times a week and Mickey had written to her, sending the letters to post offices or boarding houses where Belle could collect them. But a younger, unmarried, untethered woman might not be so assiduous.
‘So we have two dead young women,’ Mickey said quietly. ‘One at least can be returned to her family, even if they have no idea where she has been all this time. The other is missing and no doubt being missed and we do not even have her name.’
Henry nodded soberly, knowing that although they would deal fairly with both victims, Mickey’s sympathies perhaps lay more with this unknown girl and her unknown family who did not know where their daughter was and to whom she had not yet been returned.
Vic
He remembered how she had looked, sitting in the back seat of the car, Malcolm Everson’s head resting on her lap. The young man was completely out of it, his long-limbed body crammed on to the seat of the car, and she had taken hold of him and pulled him close, and Vic felt that it was more for her own comfort than from any that she could offer to her friend.
She looked terrified, tearful, clearly a woman out of her depth, and he had felt sorry for her. But what could he do? She had dug the hole that she was now in and he could not help to pull her out, even if he wanted to. She was committed now. He had promised to help her, knowing how unhappy she was at home, knowing how much she wanted to escape, and though this was perhaps an unconventional means of exit, Vic could think of no other as certain or as guaranteed to upset those she was running from.
Looking at her, glancing at her reflection in the rear-view mirror, seeing her at this strange mirror distance, he thought that she was someone who would always be running from something because she didn’t have a single idea in that pretty head regarding what she actually wanted to do with her life. She was, however, he had thought, beginning to realize that this was not it.
THREE
Mr Colin Chambers and his wife lived only a few minutes’ walk from Cynthia’s. Their neighbours, the Fullers, who had also been on the promenade, resided only two doors away from them. The younger brother-in-law, Brian Housman, lived elsewhere, and in any case was at work. He had left word that he would be happy to talk to the detectives should they need him. He could tell them little, his sister said; she had sent him off in pursuit of a constable within moments of seeing the man and realizing what he was carrying. ‘The arms and legs were hanging down and it was obviously a woman.’
The Fullers had joined the Chambers this morning and both men were impatient to get off to their jobs of work, having taken time off to give interviews to the police officers. They gave a brief account of having walked along the promenade with their wives and children, seeing the man on the beach and noting how strangely he was looking at them. He had been coming along the beach from the opposite direction and had glanced their way several times. When he drew level he had paused, turned, looked directly at them and then placed the body on the sand before walking away. Mickey went over their story several times but it was clear that the men had discussed it between themselves and had settled on this particular set of memories. There would be nothing more to gain. Henry let them go and they set off, grateful that they would have missed only an hour of the morning in their respective offices.
The women seemed to settle themselves when their menfolk had gone. Henry had often noticed that women left alone had more to say and that women often noticed things that men did not. He could hear children playing, running down the hall and laughing. Mrs Chambers glanced towards the door and Mrs Fuller smiled. ‘Ellen will take care of them,’ she reassured her friend, and although it was not her house she leaned forward and poured everyone more tea. The two women were clearly very comfortable with one another, Henry thought. Ellen was presumably a maidservant.
‘Tell me everything you saw, everything you thought,’ he said. Mickey sat poised, pen in hand, watching both women carefully and thoughtfully.
‘Well,’ Mrs Chambers said, ‘we were walking slowly. Our oldest is only five and we knew we would eventually have to carry the two little ones, but they had been so confined to the house with the bad weather we felt it was better for them to have a walk. So we left early, took a slow and easy stroll along the promenade and we chatted, you know, as friends do, and then I saw the man. He was walking along the beach, comin
g from the opposite direction, and the first thing I noticed was how big he was, how tall. So I said to Frida, Mrs Fuller, look at that man, isn’t he big? And then I wondered what it was he was carrying. It looked as though he was carrying something quite substantial, but he was just striding along as though whatever it was weighed nothing.’
‘And then I looked too,’ Mrs Fuller said. ‘And I noticed that he seemed to be glancing in our direction and I said as much to Mrs Chambers, to Carol.’
‘And I agreed. He did seem to be glancing over at us, so we mentioned it to our husbands. They were walking just behind us. Karl was walking with them, that’s the five-year-old, and we had the two little ones. I was carrying little Flo, and Frida had hold of Elsie’s hand. She does like to walk, that one. Well, of course, our husbands were a little concerned, and they agreed with us that this man was definitely looking in our direction.’
Frida picked up the story once more. ‘He was walking much faster than we were and he soon drew level with us. He was down on the firm sand just above the waves and you could see his footprints quite clearly. He had big feet; he was a big man.’
‘And when he got level with us he stopped dead. And then he turned around to face us and we could see what it was he was carrying.’ Mrs Chambers’ hands fluttered lightly as though suddenly disturbed by the memory.
‘We could all see that it was a girl. As he turned one of her shoes fell off. She had long legs hanging down from one of his arms and her arms were hanging down from the other. She was draped over his arms, I suppose you would say with her head falling back and her scarf trailing and almost touching the floor.’
‘Well, you can imagine how shocked we were. My first instinct was to shout at him, then I thought he’d never hear me in this wind, and Brian realized at once what was happening, and he said he would run and find the constable – there’s always one patrolling close to the promenade at that time of the morning. In fact, we had said good morning to him as we walked down. So Brian ran off to find a constable and we stood and watched. I mean, what else could we do?’
‘We wondered if she was ill,’ Mrs Fuller said. ‘But she looked … Dead. Utterly limp, just lying in his arms like that. When Brian ran off the man bent down and put the body on the sand. He didn’t drop her or anything – he bent down very slowly and laid her out by his feet, and then he turned around and walked away back the way he’d come. He didn’t run, he didn’t even hurry, just turned and walked away.’ She shuddered.
‘You know,’ Mrs Chambers said, ‘I think that was the most frightening thing of all. He wanted us to see him, he wanted us to see what he had, but he wasn’t in the least bit frightened or concerned. It was as though he knew we couldn’t do anything.’
She glanced at Mrs Fuller, who nodded in agreement. ‘And then Brian came back with the constable and we stood on the promenade and waited with the children while Brian, the constable and my husband went on to the beach. And they found the girl lying there, just as he had left her, but she was getting wet – the waves were lapping at her. I felt sorry for the poor constable – I think he wanted to chase after the man but he knew he had to do something for the poor dead girl. So he left Colin and Brian standing there and then he ran off to get another constable, and then a vehicle arrived from the undertaker and she was taken away.’
‘It all happened quite quickly,’ Mrs Fuller said. ‘Of course we went home then because we knew that the police would want to talk to us, so we went to church for the evening service. And anyway the children were getting cold, because they had been standing for quite some time. It was also very disturbing.’
‘You noticed this man was very big,’ Mickey said. ‘Taller than the inspector, would you say?’
Henry obligingly stood up. He was a little over six feet tall.
Both women nodded.
‘Definitely taller, I would say,’ Mrs Chambers told them. ‘Much broader too. He was a big man, someone who would have stood out as a big man even in a crowd. You would notice him. He had dark hair but he was a little too far away for us to see any more detail than that.’
‘But there was something deliberate about the way he moved,’ Mrs Fuller added. ‘As we told you, there was no hurry, he was just walking very steadily away and his strides, as you would expect, were long but he wasn’t … awkward … like some big men are, you know? What I mean is sometimes they’re not quite sure where their arms and legs end. This man was confident; he moved like a soldier, if you know what I mean. Like the guards outside the palace. They’re all tall but they’re not awkward.’
She glanced at her friend and Mrs Chambers nodded again. ‘He was very straight, kept his head up. You know how some very tall people stoop, as though they are very conscious of their height. He wasn’t like that.’
‘And was the man still in sight when the constable arrived?’
The two women glanced at one another, looking a little puzzled, and Mrs Chambers shook her head. ‘I don’t think he was. I think, Inspector, we were somewhat fixated on the body of that young woman, staring at her and not quite able to believe what we were seeing. When I looked again in the direction that the man had gone I could not see him. I watched him for a moment or two as he walked away but then I think I must have looked back at the girl and when I looked for him again he was gone.’
‘There are steps not far along the promenade,’ Mrs Fuller added. ‘We think it’s likely he went up the steps and disappeared into the side streets. But he’s a big man – surely someone would have seen him.’
‘Interesting,’ Henry said as they walked back down the street. ‘So now we go and have a chat with the constable who was summoned to the scene, though I doubt he will be able to add much. There might have been sightings of such a large individual unless he got into a car and drove away, of course.’
‘That seems most likely,’ Mickey agreed. ‘He must have transported the body somehow but why on earth decide to leave her on a beach? If he wanted her found he could have, I don’t know, propped her up in a church porch or something.’
Henry grunted agreement, a little struck by the incongruity of the image his sergeant had produced. ‘And the women were right – he would have stood out in a crowd so the chances are someone else spotted him that morning but did not realize they were seeing anything significant.’
‘True, but not many people were around, and most that were I imagine had their heads down and were charging into the wind, paying very little attention to elsewhere.’
‘But if he was a big and solid man, he would have attracted notice. What mitigates against that is the likelihood that he was driving a car and would have waited until the street was empty before he removed the body. But there’s a good chance he parked on or close to the promenade and close to the steps leading down to the beach, so that narrows the field a little.’
They had arrived at the police station and asked for the constable. They were told that he was waiting for them and were directed through to the back office. Constable Jones was attending to some paperwork but leaped to his feet as soon as the senior officers entered. Henry waved him back down and Mickey secured two more chairs. Both declined the offer of tea; they had drunk enough tea that morning.
‘We’ve just come from speaking with the Chambers and Fullers,’ Henry told him. ‘They’ve given a good account of what took place, but I would welcome your impressions. Could you still see the man when you arrived or had he disappeared from view?’
Constable Jones bristled slightly. ‘Had I been able to see him then I would have left Mr Chambers with the body and got the boy to run back for another constable while I gave chase. I looked towards the steps, as that was most likely where he had left the beach, and I thought I heard a car engine, but there was no sign of the man by the time I arrived at where the body lay. So I took a good look at the young lady and then I went to summon a second constable and the undertaker. It was clear there was nothing I could do for her and that there was no sense in calling the docto
r. Under normal circumstances I would of course have summoned the police surgeon to the beach, but we had to move the body immediately, to get it out of the waves, and it was clear from the outset that she was thoroughly dead. From the way her head lolled I guessed that her neck had been broken.’
Henry nodded; he had probably taken the best course of action in the circumstances, though it was a pity the body could not have been examined in situ.
‘And so you had the body taken to the undertakers—’
‘And the police surgeon arrived about the same time as we did. I had him summoned there. He confirmed life was extinct and wrote the certificate. He agreed with me that the poor woman had probably had her neck broken.’
‘That her neck was broken,’ Mickey put in gently. ‘We have no evidence as yet that someone did that to her, only that it happened somehow.’
Constable Jones looked mildly offended. ‘And then I went back to write my report. But first I went up the steps and I asked anyone who might have been around, knocked on a few doors, asked if anyone remembered the man or if a car had been parked there.’
‘And had anyone seen anything?’
‘One, Mrs Summers, thought she saw a car parked close to the steps. She said it was blue but that’s all she knew. She had taken no notice of it, dismissed it as nothing unordinary. I haven’t found no one else that saw anything so far. But I will try again.’
Henry nodded approval and then glanced over at his sergeant.
‘Apart from the broken neck, did you notice anything unusual about the body?’ Mickey asked.
Henry was sure that Constable Jones would already have given a great deal of thought to the matter; however, Jones was enjoying his moment and he now leant back in his chair, tapping his pen thoughtfully on the arm. ‘I noticed that she looked to be expensively dressed. The beadwork on that dress cost a pretty penny, I can tell you that. She wore no jewellery apart from a little clip in her hair and I think that was to hold her headband in place. I said to the undertaker, Mr Jamieson, that I would have expected her to have another one on the other side. These things usually come in pairs in my experience, like dress clips do, but there was just the one, shaped like a little leaf. And then there was her bag, of course, tied to her wrist with a bit of twine. I wondered at the time why whoever had done that didn’t just use her scarf. I wondered if it was because they did not want to look at her neck, even though the scarf did not hide the fact that it was broken.’
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