‘I do, and can you stop doing that?’ he said wiping his hand over the leather bindings. ‘They’re clean, and dust free. Did you see a dust-free surface in her place?’
Annie scowled at her colleague.
With adrenalin rising, Charley ushered the fractious pair towards her office.
Wilkie sat opposite Charley, pointing sideways at Annie. ‘I thought she could natter, but bloody hell, that Pritchard woman, she could talk the hind legs off a donkey!’ Slowly he rose with a groan from the chair. ‘Excuse me, I’ll have to go for a leak.’
‘Don’t forget to wash your hands, and bring us back a drink will you?’ Annie shouted after the retreating detective. An arm appeared behind his back and he showed her his middle finger. She smiled, slowly shaking her head, but her smile quickly turned into a frown when she looked at Charley. ‘We haven’t had a thing to eat or drink all day,’ she said, nodding towards the paper carrier bag next to Wilkie’s chair that held food from the bakery.
Charley frowned. ‘That’s not very hospitable of Ms Pritchard not to offer you a drink,’ she said.
‘Oh, no, it wasn’t that. She offered us hot drinks, cold drinks, wine and God knows what else from those bottles on the shelf, while she drank that blood-red wine which she had a liking for the last time we were there, but…’ Annie retched, ‘you should have seen the inside of her mugs, and the dirt and grease on the glasses.’
‘Had she got her electricity fixed?’
‘Yes, thank goodness. There were no bare wires hanging from the plug on the kettle this visit.’
Annie seemed eager to share the news they brought from St Anne’s Church. Wilkie Connor was only too pleased to let her talk, whilst he tucked into a sandwich stacked high with chicken and salad filling. Mayonnaise dripped onto his shirt, and he wiped it away with a quick flick of a licked fingertip.
‘According to Lily, it depended on the priest at the time as to what records were kept at the church. All churches, including Roman Catholic churches keep their own records, though apparently very few found their way into the National Archives in 1837 and 1857 when the Registrar General called in the non-parochial registers as part of the process of establishing the new system of civil registration.’ Annie snapped open her notebook. ‘Let me give you some facts that Lily shared with me that might help us understand at least some of their thinking. The 1559 Act of Supremacy made the Protestant Church of England the nation’s established church. Roman Catholic baptism, marriage and burial registers were collected together, as I said. But few Roman Catholic records registers were surrendered because, according to Lily, they contained records of illegal marriages between 1754 and 1837, and under the terms of Lord Hardwicke’s Marriage Act, it was a legal requirement to be married in the Church of England. Which explains the lack of records at St Anne’s, given it was a Roman Catholic church, don’t you think? The records have likely been lost for years.’
‘I guess so,’ said Charley. ‘A Catholic wouldn’t perhaps agree to the Church of England’s claims to be both Catholic and Reformed…’
‘To be honest, what intrigued me most about interviewing Lily was not what we may, or may not, find in words written down, but in the tales she tells. As gripping as they are, whether they are true or not, I don’t know. Most people around the turn of the century couldn’t write, so the records that were kept were by the people who could, and those would be the educated folk, who were in the minority, weren’t they? The papers that we brought back today might authenticate some people’s lives by a formal civil registration, but not all the births, deaths and marriages will be included, so, how do we know what is fact or what’s just folklore? I guess we don’t—’
‘Well, you don’t have to be a genius to see that the old hag is as mad as a box of frogs!’ said Wilkie, through a mouthful of pork pie. ‘We can’t take a thing she says as gospel.’
Charley chuckled. ‘We wouldn’t take anyone’s word as gospel. You know that. We’d have to have irrefutable evidence, and that’s quite hard, when anyone who could give us that evidence is believed to be dead and buried! Go on, Annie.’
‘We know from previous enquiries with Lily Pritchard, that Jeremiah Alderman’s children were said to be incestuous, and that the stillborn of Catherine were thrown on the fire by Lily’s mother, Agnes. Those little ones will not be registered in these books.’
‘If the stories of the stillbirths being thrown on the fire are true, of course,’ said Wilkie.
‘Lily told me that there is no doubt that Michael and Connor O’Doherty would only record what they would have wanted to be read in the future.’
‘Or, maybe the priest wouldn’t be told about the stillbirths in the parish, birthing being seen then as woman’s work?’
‘We’ll never know the truth, because the truth may be so bizarre and unthinkable for us to comprehend, that these days we would automatically think something so macabre was a made-up story – and a thriller at that!’
Wilkie Connor reached to take a coffee mug from the tray on Charley’s desk, and opening a bag of little cakes from the bakery bag. He offered them around, and added, ‘Like I said ’afore, there is no doubt in my mind that what the Pritchard woman gave us will tell us nowt we don’t already know.’
‘Did the old woman have any further thoughts since our last visit as to who the skeleton at Crownest might be?’ asked Charley.
‘No, she reiterated what she had said before about Catherine and Lucinda; nothing new.’ Annie blew out her cheeks, and shook her head. ‘I can’t believe there were so many people going to the other side of the world in them days!’ she said.
‘How could we prove that the corpse is Catherine, or Lucinda, without being able to get DNA from a descendant?’ asked Annie.
‘We can’t,’ said Wilkie. ‘No dental records, no hospital records.’
‘It’s also a possibility that Agnes is the one entombed at Crownest,’ said Charley.
‘Killed by whom, and why?’ said Wilkie.
Annie took a brown paper bag out of the carrier, laid it on her knee, and tore it open to reveal a slab of carrot cake. She took the icing-sugar carrot off the top and gently placed it on her tongue. ‘I’d have thought there may have been a few who could have felt like killing her, her husband for one,’ said Annie.
‘Does Lily know what happened to her mother or where her grave is?’
Annie took another bite of her cake and spoke with a mouthful. ‘Apparently not. She was a young girl when she was told that she had died, leaving her an orphan.’
‘Lily did say, however, that if you were not a devout Catholic you wouldn’t be allowed to be buried in the graveyard, so when death occurred you’d either be burnt, or buried in an unmarked grave in the surrounding countryside,’ said Wilkie.
‘That’s a good enough reason as to why our lady, whoever she is, was entombed in the cellar at Crownest, isn’t it?’ said Charley.
Annie appeared thoughtful. ‘It seems to me that she was much loved, by someone who tried their hardest to give her a pagan burial because he, or she, didn’t want her to be buried in an unmarked grave.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Let’s say it is Lucinda then. She is supposed to have gone to Australia, to be with Catherine. If she didn’t arrive, wouldn’t questions have been asked, and if she was pregnant, like we said before, where is the child?’
‘Good question,’ said Wilkie. ‘We’ve had no luck with our enquiries into the immigration records on this, on the other side of the world. Whoever the woman is, she’s got to be someone who had connections with the house,’ said Wilkie.
Charley put her elbows on her desk, and bowing her head, she put her fingers to her brow. ‘I said that,’ said Charley. ‘It’s so infuriating that we have no surviving relatives of the Alderman family to be able to speak to! If only we were having this conversation when Adam, Felix’s illegitimate son, was alive. There is no confirmation, so far, to say that Catherine set off for, or even arrived in Australia, other than what Lil
y and Josie tell us. We don’t know if Catherine went on to have any children, who would presumably now live on the other side of the world, and we don’t know officially if Lucinda was pregnant by Seth, and if she went on to give birth to a child, or if he or she is still living. Is it worth DNA-testing Lily, which would tell us if the corpse was Agnes, and therefore narrowing our suspects down?’
The CID door slammed into the metal filing cabinet twice, and all three lifted their heads to see through Charley’s office window who had made such an entrance.
Charley took a deep breath as she watched Ricky-Lee slump into his chair, head in his hands. ‘Go tell ’em to come in will you, Wilkie. I think we need to put our heads together, and now seems like as good a time as any.’ Charley spoke through clenched teeth. ‘I’m just in the mood to see what everyone can contribute.’
Chapter 24
Annie had put the last of the church papers back in the box and closed the lid. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, lowered her forehead onto her desk, and groaned. To her annoyance she felt the tears of disappointment burning behind her eyelids. She hated it too when Wilkie Connor was right.
Returning from their enquiries, the others filtered into the office, sharing raucous banter. Demoralised, Annie prayed that they had had more success than her. She looked up at the clock, then back at the cardboard box. How many hours had she lost sifting through the grubby documents, without any information forthcoming to move the enquiry forward? She felt sick.
Charley entered the CID office, her voice raised. ‘Anything of interest?’ she said to everyone and anyone in the room. ‘Together for a debrief now, please!’
Annie picked up the piece of paper in front of her that contained her notes she had collated throughout the day. When it was her turn to speak, she tried to sound more upbeat than she felt. ‘Just bits and bobs that confirm the Alderman family history from the church registers, but other than that there was nothing in the church records.’
Wilkie rolled his eyes. ‘Well, what a surprise?’ he said under his breath, in an I-told-you-so fashion.
The young detective’s tears which were buried deep inside, began to surface, only to be quickly brought under control. Instead, Annie let out a deep sigh, and gave him a sideways glance of exasperation.
There was a pause. Charley turned towards Annie. ‘Tell me more,’ she said.
‘The marriage of Jeremiah Alderman to Roselyn is registered. Michael O’Doherty performed the ceremony and their children’s births and baptisms are also recorded. The church was, as we were told by Lily, the beneficiary of Jeremiah’s great wealth at the time, which continued after he died, under Felix and Seth Alderman hence I guess the pot of gold that Lily refers to. Adam, Felix and Mary Shires’ illegitimate son, was baptised at St Anne’s, but not until he was a year old, which is when he was presumably brought into the Alderman fold. This can be authenticated by the date Mary Shire’s death was registered, and the date that Felix was buried in the churchyard after he was hanged by his neck on the gallows, as we know he was supposedly responsible for murdering Mary.
‘Adam was christened by the deacon of the parish at the time who was Walter Pritchard, Agnes’s husband, and Lily’s father. However, Adam’s confirmation ceremony was conducted by the priest, Connor O’Doherty, some years later. There isn’t a reason given for this.’
‘I thought that a confirmation had to be administered by a bishop?’ said Tattie, settling the tray of warm drinks down in the centre of the conference table. She sat. No one moved. She looked around at the other, and raised her eyebrows at their apathy. ‘I’ll be mother, shall I?’ she said, standing, with a tut upon her lips.
Annie continued, ‘It is normally. However, a priest, in this case Connor O’Doherty, would be legally able to perform the ceremony with the authority of the bishop, if my memory serves me right,’ said Annie.
Wilkie eyed the young detective with surprise. ‘How’d you know stuff like that?’
‘It’s surprising the stuff you pick up when you’re schooled by nuns.’
‘Not that it really matters to the enquiry, but is there anything that would lead us to believe that Connor was granted that authority?’ asked Charley.
Annie shook her head again. ‘Nope! Nothing to suggest or confirm that the authority was requested or given. Neither Lucinda’s marriage to Seth, nor their child’s birth, is registered. In fact, the registers are pretty scant after Father Michael O’Doherty died, so throughout Connor O’Doherty’s term of office.’
‘Well, what did you expect? We know that Connor was a bit of a would-be loose cannon. Pardon the pun.’ Wilkie sniggered at his own joke which, by the look on the faces of those present, fell on deaf ears.
‘We know from our enquiries that Lucinda was a pagan, so I wouldn’t expect any record by association at the church, would you?’ said Mike.
‘The more I have read about Connor O’Doherty, the more I don’t like the man. He appears to be nothing like his uncle, whose reputation and records appear to be all in order, and I do wonder if Walter Pritchard was a little afraid of him, for him to allow the priest to use Agnes for his own pleasure?’ she said.
‘Maybe the priest pulled rank,’ suggested Ricky-Lee, ‘because, after Rev Pritchard took the decision to marry Agnes, allegedly to save the young girl from the workhouse, Connor would know that Walter could never achieve more than the rank of a deacon, giving him a direct line to the job of looking after the parish when his uncle Michael O’Doherty died.’
‘Maybe Walter Pritchard never was er…’ Wilkie looked as if he was considering his choice of words, ‘interested in the fairer sex?’
‘Yet he is Lily’s father,’ said Annie.
‘Is he? Or could she be the result of any one of the number of liaisons that Agnes is reputed to have had outside the marriage?’ said Charley.
‘I had at least hoped to find Lucinda and Seth’s child’s birth mentioned somewhere, whether in the register, or in the records, but it’s as if the child never existed.’
‘Maybe it never did,’ said Ricky-Lee. ‘Perhaps Lucinda miscarried; then again, the young woman could have had a stillbirth.’
‘Hmm, but both Lily and Josie told us the same story independently – that Lucinda had a child.’ Charley turned to Annie. ‘What did Lily have to say about the treasure trove of pictures and papers that Josie referred to?’
‘She didn’t. She brushed it off as Josie being fanciful.’
‘Do you think Lily told you everything she knows?’ said Charley.
‘Did she ’eck,’ said Wilkie chasing the crumbs of his sandwich around its plastic container before popping them into his mouth.
Annie looked quizzically at Wilkie. ‘Can I just ask, is that your dinner or your tea?’
‘Depends which part of the country you come from,’ he said. Wilkie’s smile was mischievous.
Charley pursed her lips. ‘Perhaps now’s the time to bring Lily Pritchard out of the comfort of her home and into the station to speak to her.’
Wilkie leaned forward with a smirk on his face, and menace in his eyes. ‘Then, because she’s a Bible basher, we’ll have one on the table in the interview room. If we think she’s telling porkies we can get her to swear on it.’
Charley pulled a face. ‘That is not helpful or professional. If you’ve nothing productive to say, keep it shut!’
Wilkie mumbled something under his breath, something along the lines of, it was no different from a lie detector, no biggie.
Mike knew Charley well enough to know that when she turned to him, her expression would be one of frustration. ‘For God’s sake take the comedian with you, will you and go see Jonathan Raglan again. I want to know more about Waseem Chaudry’s nephew’s visit to the estate agents.’
Mike pushed his chair backwards and looked as if he was preparing to stand. ‘More to the point, find out why Raglan didn’t think to tell us about it, and the fact that the nephew, Faisal Hussain, had been enquiring about the
whereabouts of the Dixons.’
Charley dismissed the group, but she raised her hand at Ricky-Lee. ‘I’d like a word with you,’ she said. ‘My office, now!’
Chapter 25
Ricky-Lee saw DI Charley Mann sit down, as if in slow motion, on the swivel chair behind her impeccably tidy desk. She had a deep scowl etched on her face and, when she sat, her posture was stiff and unyielding. The detective closed the door slowly and quietly behind him, a gnawing beginning in the pit of his stomach.
‘Why are you avoiding Ben and Terry?’ Charley found herself clenching her teeth as she spoke.
Tension filled the air, and she waited for the officer to respond. Ricky-Lee moved to the edge of a chair, leaned forward and cleared his throat. He looked down at his interlocked fingers which he was wringing, in the space between his legs. After a few silent moments, he took a breath, and looked up to see black eyes, as sharp as granite, looking back at him. Charley’s expression shocked him.
‘DC Lewis, I know you’re an intelligent man, so don’t piss me about. What the hell is going on? I’m dealing with a double-murder enquiry and your behaviour is becoming a distraction that I can well do without. I thought we had an understanding after our talk in the graveyard, but it appears not.’ She paused briefly. ‘You’ve got one chance to tell me what’s going on. Don’t leave anything out, and don’t lie to me,’ she said. Charley’s voice had a sharp edge to it that Ricky-Lee had never heard her use before, and it sent goosebumps down his spine.
Ricky-Lee’s voice sounded shaky to his own ears. ‘Boss, I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to avoid anybody or anything that has to do with gambling, not just them,’ he said, quietly. ‘The truth is, I can’t be around gamblers. Not if I want to kick this addiction. That’s why I walked out, when Mike saw me, rather than join you, and Ben and Terry.’
Charley put her elbows on the desk and clasped her hands together. ‘Go on then, tell me about it. I’m listening,’ she said.
Ricky-Lee took a long deep breath. ‘It all started six years ago. I didn’t think gambling would be a problem, not for me. I was working undercover; a big drugs case. The job required infiltration into the drugs gang. The fun part for me was the race meetings, a bit of light relief from the violent world I found myself involved in. At least, I thought it was fun at the time. We were given free hotel rooms, free meals, as much alcohol as we could drink, and the cartel provided the drugs and the girls. I was more than happy to people-watch, with the odd visit to the betting stand to authenticate the reason for being at a race meeting. I had to be one of them. I’m not much of a drinker and I was engaged to be married. Money was no object; we had wads of money to play with. It was like Monopoly money, it had no value to me whatsoever.’ He gave a half-hearted laugh. ‘They needed to get rid of their dirty money somehow, and believe me, it’s true, money attracts money.’ Ricky-Lee’s eyes filled with tears, but swallowing hard somehow seemed to stem their flow. ‘How stupid was I to think that I could do the same, after the job had finished, with no tip-offs from the professionals: the trainers, the stable hands, the jockeys who were all happy to help and take the backhanders. But I was hooked.’
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