Once the debrief was finished, Charley headed to update Chief Superintendent Stokes before returning to her own office seeing a chance for a moment or two of silence. She leaned her head back on her office chair headrest with her eyes closed. She was tired; her eyes were aching. She was waiting for the Crown Prosecution Service to call her when Mike and Wilkie walked into her office. Their rowdy entrance startled her.
‘We have good news and bad news, boss, which would you like first?’ asked an eager Wilkie.
Charley covered her mouth with her hand to suppress a yawn. ‘Start with the bad, then at least things can only get better.’
‘Raglan collapsed in his cell,’
‘He has?’
‘When you were in the meeting with the Divisional Commander.’
‘And?’
‘He was taken to hospital but they turned him around, after checking his vital signs. They put the episode down to possible withdrawal. He’s been given medication for the custody staff to administer until such time as he goes to prison.’
‘And the good news, Mike?’
‘Thomas’s interview about the discovery of the firearm, ma’am. On being told he was also under arrest for possession of a firearm and ammunition, I thought he was going to collapse, but he somehow gathered his composure, and remained silent throughout our questioning. He certainly didn’t expect us to find it.’
‘I think Mr Thomas is going to realise very quickly that he is now in a very different world. He knows he has slipped up, now the inevitable will begin to sink in, namely that he is going to be locked up for perhaps a long time.’ Charley looked up at the clock above her door. ‘We’re running out of time on those custody clocks – let’s get James Thomas charged with murder, and the remand files ready for Court tomorrow morning. CPS haven’t responded to me, so I’ve made the decision and I’ll give them a courtesy call to let them know the brief details of them attending the Magistrates Court tomorrow for a remand in custody.’
Mike closed the door behind him as he left Charley’s office, just as her phone began to ring. She picked it up.
‘DI John Harris, National Crime Agency,’ said the man at the other end of the line. ‘Sorry for the delay, we’ve had a live incident to deal with. How can I help you with your enquiry? I heard you’ve been trying to get hold of me.’
‘DI Charley Mann, Peel Street, CID. I’ve just sent you information about a man called James Thomas which I think may be of interest to you.’
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Funnily enough, that name has cropped up on the periphery in regards to drug distribution recently where firearms have been involved.’
‘Do you also know the name of Faisal Hussain? He is the victim in one of our local murder enquiries,’ probed Charley.
‘Indeed, I do!’ DI Harris seemed surprised. ‘I for one won’t lose any sleep over his demise. As they say, he lived by the sword, and he died by the sword, or in his case, the gun.’
‘It’s being suggested to us that a weapon Hussain was carrying was imitation. Is that likely from the intelligence you have? We haven’t recovered an imitation firearm, but recently we have recovered a firearm during the searches of premises of one of the suspects.’
DI Harris laughed out loud. ‘The likes of Faisal Hussain carry a toy gun? Christ, no, absolutely not! Even the idea would make him a laughing stock. I suggest someone is shovelling you a load of bullshit, like they do. He’d have been taken out years ago by the opposition if he carried imitation firearms.’
‘Exactly my thoughts; that’s all I needed to know,’ Charley said. ‘I’ll get our intelligence cell to send you our current info on Hussain’s murder, and the details of those charged, along with further details of the recently recovered weapon I mentioned, once Forensics and Ballistics get back to me.’
‘Yeah, that would be good.’
Charley’s next call was to the Crown Prosecution Service who apologised for not returning her call earlier. She informed them that the custody clock was against her, and couldn’t delay charging the men any longer, explaining that they had now been charged with murder, and Thomas with possession of a firearm and ammunition. The relationship between the police and the CPS was about assessing the evidence independently for the Crown Prosecution Service. The last thing anyone wanted was to have to withdraw a charge of murder, or be reprimanded at a later trial, by the judge, if there was insufficient evidence. Charley outlined the evidence against the offenders and the CPS were in full agreement with her decision to charge. The SIO breathed a sigh of relief, although she had never been in doubt about the substantial evidence in the case.
She then sat for a moment reflecting on the enquiry so far. A derelict house had revealed the remains of two humans. As a result, they now had one armed robber shot dead by the police, three people charged with murder and related offences, and two firearms had been removed from circulation. Who would believe that all this had come from her stopping on a whim at Crownest that cold frosty morning?
Her mind quickly wandered to thinking about why James Thomas would keep a firearm in his locker; could it be the one that was missing, the one that belonged to Hussain? Hopeful Forensics would be able to confirm this, and it would negate some of Brad Dixon’s story of how things had happened and the supposed disposal of the imitation weapon in the sea.
Her phone rang, breaking her train of thought.
‘Charley, Tim Watson, Firearms Tac Advisor.’
‘Please tell me we haven’t another job running at the moment, Tim?’ Charley heard the desperation in her voice, and wondered if Tim did, too.
Tim chuckled. ‘Keep calm, it’s just a heads-up about the independent enquiry into the shooting of Brittany Dixon. The outcome has confirmed that she was killed lawfully. Obviously, this won’t be in the public domain for at least another week, but I thought you’d like to know immediately.’
‘Yes, thanks Tim, that’s great news for all concerned. Although we were never in doubt, it is nice to have that conclusion endorsed by an independent enquiry.’
As Charley put the phone down, she knew with satisfaction that the incident was closed with a positive result. There were lots of loose ends to tie up; Forensics were still due to get back to her, and there was a vast amount of paperwork to be done, but one murder was in her view now solved, even though there were a few loose ends to tie up.
Charley’s thoughts turned to the female skeleton in the cellar and the baffling mystery of her death. She looked out of her window at the darkening skies. The office felt stifling to her. Rain and thunder threatened. She needed air. She stood and put on her coat.
‘Where you off?’ Mike said as she walked through the office. ‘Want some company?’
Charley stood at the side of his desk. ‘No, I just need to clear my head,’ she said. ‘I’m off out for a drive round. I’ll have my phone with me.’
‘You’re going to the church, aren’t you?’
Charley nodded. ‘You read my mind,’ she smiled. ‘More than likely. Then I will head for home. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
* * *
Charley sat quietly in her car. She may never find out the truth, or know the harrowing experiences of the Yorkshire folk of yesteryear who had lived in Crownest, for she knew that the official records and history books back then were written by those who could write. However, being a Yorkshire lass, she wouldn’t give up. ‘if you hit a brick wall get under, over, or through it,’ is what Jack, her Dad would tell her. ‘Don’t let anything stop you moving forward. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.’
Was Charley intrigued by how the mysterious skeleton had been murdered and the way she was hidden, or was her fascination due to the skeleton’s age and Charley’s love of history? Maybe it was even because of the tales her granny had told her. She didn’t know, but she was driven by a wish to solve the mystery, and she was not going to be satisfied with resolving half of the mysteries that Crownest had uncovered. Murder is the supreme test for any detective
, and this present case was just that.
Charley drove on. Most of the enquiries had been historic, but she was suddenly aware that she had forgotten the golden rule: to clear the ground beneath her feet. It didn’t matter how many times she revisited the church, as long as she got a result in the end. Whilst Lily had answered questions in a reasonable and satisfying way, there was a lot of information that she had been vague about, and it was easy to be deliberately vague after so much time, Charley realised.
A slight wind was blowing the overgrown branches of a few trees edging the moors, making them scrape slowly across the roof of the car. The dark clouds had cleared and had not remained static in the valley, as they so often did. Charley stepped out into the middle of open pasture, surrounded by primroses, snowdrops, spear thistle, bee orchid to name but a few winter flowers.
The afternoon had been forecast as pleasant on the radio but the weather had turned cold, and Charley pulled her coat around her to stop the breeze from chilling her bones. Immediately as she stepped into the graveyard, she noticed the quietness of her surroundings, with no birdsong. It was such a shame that the majority of graves were neglected and overgrown, apart from the posies placed on selected graves. She wondered if that was because the occupants of the graves no longer had living relatives, or if the relatives no longer visited their ancestors’ resting place. It seemed sad. The church door was locked.
Charley wandered from one grave to another, reading the gravestones as best she could. She did not really know what she was looking for, but she was aware that should she be seen by another, she would have been thought of as odd or perhaps having lost the plot.
Cold, she returned to the car, and telephoned Mike Blake. ‘Mike, tomorrow once we have got Hussain’s killers’ remand hearing over, let’s arrange to pick Lily Pritchard up and bring her in. I think we’re due another word with her, at the police station this time. I can’t put my finger on it, but I have this nagging feeling that she has secrets still to share, and before you say anything, I know I’m jumping from one murder to the other, but it’s something we need to do.’
Chapter 42
‘Catherine Alderman didn’t emigrate to Australia, Lily, like you would have us believe, did she? Please be truthful,’ asked Charley.
In the stark white space of the police interview room, Lily could do nothing but look about her in awe, squinting as she did so at the brightness of the lights. She appeared puzzled by how the interview chairs were screwed to the floor. Annie had placed hot drinks on the table between her and the detectives. Charley’s tone of voice, and the harsh surroundings, seemed to intimidate the old lady. The look in her bewildered eyes reminded the SIO of a rabbit caught in car headlights. Yet, hard though it was, this approach was necessary.
Softly, Charley continued. ‘Lily, are those Catherine’s remains that we found in the cellar at Crownest?’ Charley had gone out on a limb, and with her heart in her mouth, she waited for the reaction.
After a moment or two Lily dropped her gaze, looked for a moment at the gnarled hands that lay knotted together in her lap, and then she began slowly shaking her head. ‘No,’ she said, in a hushed tone when she lifted her head. Tears were in her eyes, and as she stared at Charley, one or two spilled over, and rolled down her cheeks. ‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ she slurred. ‘That’s not the story that my mother, Agnes, told me on her deathbed, and I’ve no reason to doubt her words.’
Charley took a sharp breath. ‘What did she tell you?’ She spoke quietly hoping Lily would carry on.
‘She told me that she wanted me to know everything before she died, so that if they came asking, I could tell them the truth. But I promised her, on the Bible, that I wouldn’t tell another living soul apart from them.’
Charley frowned. ‘Tell who, Lily, tell them what? Why can’t you tell us?’
‘I can’t, because you’re not them,’ she said, angrily.
‘I’m not who? Who is it that you’re referring to as “them”?’
‘Those whom God didn’t lift a finger against to help prevent it from happening. My faith has been put to the test. It was the least I could do to find them, and tell them the truth, but I didn’t.’ Lily’s gaze lingered on Charley’s face for a moment or two. Suddenly, she took a deep intake of breath, and leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘One thing I can tell you is that Catherine did go to Australia, and she had a daughter. I don’t know what happened to her daughter, but Agnes believed that when Catherine died, the girl was brought back to England, to be looked after by Catherine’s husband’s parents. I should have gone looking for her, and I didn’t. God let her down, and I let her down, and I can’t forgive myself.’
Charley could see how distressed Lily was, but she needed to carry on in her questioning. ‘What happened in the past is not your fault, nor is it God’s. Can’t you see that His love saved you for a much greater purpose, Lily, to do these things now if you can, and also find a proper resting place for the poor woman who was killed and buried in the cellar? You were young, it was wrong for the elders to put this on you. Is it true that Seth sent his sister, Catherine away?’ asked Charley.
Lily nodded, through her sobs. ‘Yes, according to my mother, Agnes, Lucinda looked up to Catherine as an older friend and confidante, and chose to continue to confide in her after she married Seth. Seth didn’t approve of his sister interfering in the couple’s marital affairs.’
‘There must have been a trigger though, for such drastic action?’ said Charley.
‘You are very perceptive,’ Lily gave Charley a watery smile. ‘Lucinda, I was told, became pregnant quite quickly after the couple married, and as Seth’s dependency on drugs and drink continued to grow throughout her pregnancy, it brought with it dark, low moods and violent rages, which he took out on his wife and sister. Catherine witnessed the shouting and some of the abuse endured by his young, pregnant wife, until apparently one day, fearing for Lucinda’s and the baby’s life, she decided it could not continue any longer. In one of Seth’s more lucid moments, Agnes told me he had agreed to Catherine’s suggestion that the tunnel between the house and the church be bricked up, and the gates to the house locked, to stop his visiting the church where Lucinda was taken for her safety, to be looked after by her parents. Lucinda pined for Seth, and he did for her, but she knew she had to stay away, at least until the baby was born. It was said that she would sit at the bricked-up doorway, on the cold stone slabs, talking to her husband long into the night. He could be heard by others, wailing like an animal in pain, begging her to come to him, but she resisted. Most nights Catherine would cover her brother’s sleeping body on the dirt floor in the tunnel, as he was too heavy for her to lift back into the house.
‘In his poor state of mind, Seth is said to have blamed everyone else for the situation he had found himself in, and grew to believe that if Catherine, whom he believed was Lucinda’s captor, was not around, then his wife would come back to him. Unknown to anyone, he arranged for his sister to be kidnapped and sent as far away as possible, and whilst waiting for his plan to come to fruition he began digging an alternative secret tunnel, for in his deranged state, he thought that Lucinda was being kept prisoner and he need to rescue her. Once he started, Seth became as obsessed about the tunnel as he was about everything else. He bragged to the couple of servants left about it, claiming that the speed with which it was being dug was down to help from the Hobgoblin. He was, as you can imagine, a laughing stock, but they egged him on because he paid them well, for the privilege of their company. Relentlessly, he carried on digging until he was nothing more than a skeleton himself. He didn’t eat, neither did he sleep much, because the compulsion forced him to continue digging, day after day, night after night, until he had built a lengthy underground tunnel which led into the graveyard… to his elected burial plot. He worked mostly by candlelight. When Catherine went away, he supposedly continued to beg Lucinda to see him, Agnes told me. However, she did not dare, not because she didn’t want to, but
because of the threat to her unborn baby, whom she loved above all. Then rumour has it, that Lucinda fled the church one night after the baby was born, and never returned. Agnes believed that Lucinda finally gave in and went to be with him. Not long afterwards, Seth was found dead, it is said by young Adam. There is no mention of his burial in the church records; it was thought that the exit of the tunnel must have been turned into his grave by the people who worked for him, such was their commitment to Adam. So disliked was he by those at the church that he wasn’t bestowed the proper burial, in the ground that was rightfully bought for his final resting place, and as you know, his body has never been found.’
‘And Lucinda was never seen again either, you said?’ asked Charley.
Lily was quiet. Head down, she dabbed her cheeks. The interview room took on a feeling of peace and serenity. Charley did not know what had just happened, but something had.
‘What became of the baby?’ asked Charley.
‘I can’t… I really can’t tell you any more,’ Lily said, with some finality, and Charley could tell by her expression that her word on the Bible was her bond.
There was a knock at the door, and Mike opened it slowly. ‘Is everything okay in here; can I get anyone anything?’ he asked.
Lily stood. ‘I have to go, can I go…?’ she said.
‘Can we give you a lift home?’ Charley’s eyes flashed from Lily to Mike, and he nodded reassuringly.
‘No, but thank you,’ she said, softly. ‘I’ve something extremely important that I need to do first.’
* * *
Charley sat alone in her office for a while, her thoughts on the skeletal remains of the body in the cellar, wondering how she would prove an identity with no living relative to provide DNA. Her mobile phone rang, and it sounded extra loud, as if alerting her to an emergency.
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