by Ruth Sutton
‘Ex-priest,’ Judith corrected him. ‘And he was a friend of my grandmother, not me. He only agreed to talk to me out of respect for her.’
‘I hear more plots thickening,’ said Shaw.
‘Very old plots in that case,’ said Judith, ‘and irrelevant.’
‘Leave Judith’s granny out of it, John,’ said Bill Skelly. ‘Next question is whether Edwards and company at Montgomery House know that their dear departed colleague has been found.’
‘And why he did it,’ said Shaw. ‘Looks pretty clear to me. Dodgy priest has his hand down the kid’s trousers, Catholic guilt, kid runs away and turns up dead, more guilt, dodgy priest tops himself before they catch up with him. Open and shut.’
‘Sad,’ said Judith, sipping on her fizzy drink.
‘Who for?’ said Bill. ‘Come on, Judith. Don’t feel sorry for some perv who molests kids. If he touched a kid of mine, I’d cut his balls off.’
‘But we can’t just jump to that conclusion, can we? What my friend told me was gossip he heard a long time ago, and it was a long way from where anything might have happened.’
‘So why would he top himself?’ said John Shaw.
‘Why do people kill themselves?’ Judith went on, watching the last of the bubbles rise in her drink. ‘All sorts of reasons. He could have been ill, some woman might have jilted him, we’ve no idea. It’s just guesswork, and we can’t print that.’
‘She’s right,’ said Bill, looking into his pint. ‘Need more to go on.’
‘Good story in the making, though,’ said John Shaw, calling the barman over.
❖ ❖ ❖
Harries’s body was moved to one side to wait for transport to the mortuary, and the policemen adjusted the lights to see as much as they could. Grayson pulled Sam by the arm out of the lighted area into the darkness of the surrounding trees, and lowered his voice. ‘I know everyone thinks you’re a pain, Sam, but to be honest, I’d rather work with you than with Morrison. You and I trained together and I know how things should be done, even if you don’t think I do.’
Sam was surprised. He’d written Grayson off as just another time-server who cut corners and beat up suspects to get a ‘confession’ and save them the time on proper police work. More than once, Sam had left an interview room when things got really rough and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep quiet about what went on. Slapping a suspect around was routine and he was used to it, but he drew the line at kicking.
‘Does Morrison know we’re both here?’ Sam asked. ‘I’d already started asking questions about all the staff at Montgomery House and about the kid who died in the quicksand down the road.’
‘Something I wondered,’ said Grayson. ‘If the kid was from here, how come he ended up on the shore where he did?‘
‘I thought about that too,’ said Sam. ‘Still haven’t figured out exactly how he died.’
‘So what are we going to do about the press guys?’
‘Tell them something to keep them off our backs. Ask for help finding witnesses, all the usual stuff.’
‘Do you think that Pharaoh girl knows things she’s not telling us?’
Sam thought for a minute. ‘She’s no fool, I know that. And she told me herself that she needs this story to keep her job.’
‘Could you find out what’s she’s been up to, on the quiet like?’
Sam shrugged. ‘Last week I gave her a lecture about the evils of police and press getting into bed together.’ He realised too late that the words were poorly chosen.
Harry patted Sam on the back. ‘Now there’s a thought,’ he said. ‘Is that called killing two birds with one stone?’
They turned back to help the scene of crime team tie yellow ‘Do Not Cross’ tape from tree to tree around the scene. ‘Need someone here overnight,’ said the scene-of-crime sergeant to Harry. ‘Done as much as we can tonight. We’ll get the body back to the mortuary and see what the doc says in the morning. We can guess it was suicide but you never know.’
‘Found anything?’
‘Not much. Two cigarette ends,’ the sergeant held up a brown evidence bag with writing on it. ‘Look like the same brand but we’ll get forensics to check that out. Untipped, don’t see so many of them around these days. As soon as we have enough light we’ll go over it again, and further up towards the road. What about Montgomery House?’
‘We’re on our way up there now,’ said Harry. ‘I’ll take Sam with me as he knows them. We’ll see you back here tomorrow, first thing, right?’ The sergeant nodded.
A few minutes later DCs Tognarelli and Grayson stood side by side in the porch as the front door of Montgomery House opened, flooding the steps with light. Both men produced their warrant cards and introduced themselves. Captain Edwards looked from one to the other, and nodded to Sam.
‘Not more bad news?’ said the captain.
In Edwards’ office Grayson told him what they’d found in the woods across the road, while Sam stood quietly by the door, watching, gauging the reaction. The captain was hard to read: shock, yes, and confusion. Alarm? Definitely, but that was understandable as the reputation of Montgomery House was about to be badly tarnished. Captain Edwards sat down heavily in his chair. The two police officers remained standing.
‘Did he?’ Edwards’ voice tailed away.
‘It’s possible he killed himself, sir, too early be sure as yet, although there is a brief note that seems to support this. We’ve made a preliminary search of the scene and will carry on at first light. In the meantime, we’re sure that the body is that of Desmond Harries, as my colleague had already spoken to him about the other matter.’
‘Do you think there’s a connection…’ he paused, ‘with the other matter?’ Edwards’ voice was barely more than a whisper.
‘Again, too early to tell. Sometimes one event just triggers another without there being any other link. Did you notice anything unusual about Mr Harries’s behaviour in the past few days, or longer?’
Edwards produced a large white handkerchief from an inside pocket and blew his nose. ‘Well of course he was very upset by what happened to Steven, but then we all were. Such a tragic business.’
‘And bad for the reputation of this place?’ Sam asked.
‘Of course, how could it not be? But in that case it would be me feeling that responsibility, not poor Mr Harries.’ He blew his nose again. ‘And how am I going to tell Matron? She needed to see Dr Graham after what happened to Steven. I’d better alert him.’
‘We’ll have to talk to both of them, sir, so perhaps the initial news might come from you? She’s bound to know that something’s up when we search Mr Harries’s room.’
‘Do you have to do that now? The boys are still around. It’s been hard enough with them the past few days, and now this.’
‘You could tell them that we’re worried about Mr Harries and need to look in his room. That’s as much as they need to know for the time being.’ Harry looked down at his notebook, while behind him Sam opened his to a fresh page and began to write with his very small pencil.
‘That’s what I’ll tell them, and Iris too, just for now,’ said Edwards. ‘Something vague, just until the morning. Can you wait here please, to give me time to gather them up and say what needs saying.’
‘We’d like to be there, too,’ said Sam. He wanted to see any reactions from the boys.
Ten minutes later the two policemen stood at the back of the dining room while Captain Edwards, with Iris Robinson by his side, spoke to the twenty or so boys who sat straight and quiet along the long benches by the old wooden tables.
‘These two gentlemen are police officers,’ said the captain, and heads turned to stare at Sam and Harry. ‘They have some concerns about the whereabouts of Mr Harries and they need to have a look in his room and perhaps ask us about when we last saw him, and so on.’
The boys looked at each other. Sam saw nothing much register on their faces, but most of them had dealings with the police many times be
fore and knew how to keep their reactions to themselves.
‘You may go to your rooms, boys, but don’t get ready for bed just yet. We’ll call you down to my office if we need to talk to you. Before you go – Mr Harries had a day off today. Did any of you see him leave this morning?’
‘I saw him talking to someone, sir,’ said a voice. ‘This morning, sir.’
‘Thank you, Leonard,’ said the captain. ‘Anyone else?’ There was silence. ‘So if you could come with us please, Leonard,’ said the captain, ‘and Mrs Robinson will see the rest of you up to your rooms.’
The matron helped and herded as the boys scraped back their benches and shuffled out of the dining room towards the stairs. None of them spoke until they had left the room, but then their raised voices and Mrs Robinson’s calm adult tone reached the policemen’s ears as they walked ahead of Leonard and the captain back to the office.
‘If I go with the captain up to Mr Harries’s room, could you have a word with Leonard here?’ said Harry Grayson to Sam as they stood in the doorway. Leonard was obviously not happy about being interviewed again and had to be steered into the office. As he hovered uncomfortably by the door Sam pulled out a chair for him to sit on, and another one next to it for himself, positioned so that he was beside the boy rather than facing him. They sat in silence side by side for a moment before Sam spoke.
‘Do you remember me, Leonard?’ he asked. ‘I came a few days ago, after we found Steven.’
Leonard nodded, looking down at his knees.
‘So tell me as much as you can remember about seeing Mr Harries.’
‘E were with this man, sir,’ Leonard began.
‘Slowly, please,’ said Sam. ‘I’ll have to write things down, or I forget.’ It was a lie: Sam rarely forgot anything but he wanted the boy to think slowly and carefully about what he said. ‘Now let’s start at the beginning, shall we? What time did you see Mr Harries?’
‘After breakfast. Must’ve been about half eight. Me and the other school lads were going across the yard to t’ schoolroom but I forgot summat and I went back in. When I came out again, Mr Harries were standing by the bins, with a man.’
‘Did they seem to know each other?’
Leonard screwed up his face in thought. ‘Nah,’ he said after a pause. ‘Mr Harries had a look, you know, as if ’e didn’t know the man. And ’e looked upset like.’
‘What can you remember about this man?’
‘Taller than you, more like that other copper. And a thin face.’
‘A thin face?’
‘Yeh, he ’ad a long chin. That makes your face look thin, dunnit?’
‘What was he wearing?’
‘A big ’at,’ said the boy, without hesitation. ‘It were pulled right down.’
‘But you said you could see his thin face and his chin.’
‘Aye, well, ’e’d pulled it down at the front and to one side, like them gangsters do in old films, but I could still see some of ’is face.’
‘Would you recognise him again?’
Leonard shook his head.
Sam looked at the boy carefully for a moment before he went on. ‘Were he and Mr Harries talking?’
‘The man were talking, but Harries weren’t saying much.’
‘Could you hear what he was saying?’
‘Couldn’t ’ear ’owt, but he were pointing at Mr Harries, jabbing ’im in the shoulder,’ said Leonard. ‘Couldn’t just stand there listening. Didn’t want Harries to see me. So I went back in and waited till they went away.’
‘Where did they go?’
Leonard shrugged his shoulders. ‘Dunno,’ he said. ‘When I come out again, they’d both gone.’ He thought for a minute. ‘Could still see the smoke, though.’
‘What smoke?’
‘From a cig. Smoke were ’anging in the air, like.’
‘Did Mr Harries smoke?’ Sam asked.
‘Im? Nay,’ said Leonard. ‘E allus knew when we’d been. Said he could smell it ’cos ’e didn’t smoke ’imself.’
Sam wrote in his book. ‘Could you show me where you saw Mr Harries and the man?’
Leonard got up from his chair and walked out of the office with Sam following behind. There didn’t appear to be anyone around or on the stairs but Sam could feel eyes watching as they went down the hall to the back door. Leonard opened it and stood just outside, at the top of the steps that led down into the back yard. ‘I were standing ’ere, sir,’ he said to Sam. ‘And they were over there.’ He pointed to his left, towards a low fence behind which were the large refuse bins. Piled up against the fence were some old orange boxes and an axe that someone was using to chop them up for kindling.
‘Right,’ said Sam. ‘And that’s where you saw the smoke.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Leonard.
‘One last thing before you go, Leonard. You’re sure you never saw this man before.’ The boy shook his head. ‘And you don’t think Mr Harries knew him?’ Leonard shrugged. ‘Did you see Mr Harries speak to the man, even if you couldn’t hear what he said?’
‘He said summat. Well, ’is mouth moved, like. I told you, ’e looked scared. Maybe ’e thought the man were going to ’it ’im.’
‘You think that?’
‘That’s how I look when someone’s going to ’it me,’ said Leonard. ‘Somebody big, like. Not one of the lads.’
‘So he looked a strong man, big.’
‘Aye,’ard,’ said Leonard. He dropped his head. ‘Can I go now, sir?’
‘Yes, Leonard. If I need to talk to you again, I know where you are.’
Sam had asked Leonard not to talk to the rest of the lads about their conversation but he knew that it was a waste of breath. Alone on the step, he looked across again at the area where the encounter had apparently taken place. He took a torch from his pocket and walked slowly and carefully across the flagstones, shining the light on his feet as he did so. Close to the low fence he stopped and crouched down. He took a pair of tweezers and a brown bag out of his inside pocket, picked up a cigarette stub from the ground, put it in the brown bag and went back up the steps and into the house.
There was no sign of Grayson, but the door of the captain’s office was open and he could hear Mrs Robinson’s voice, and her tears. Sam walked to the stairs and up. There was no one around and the doors were closed. As he passed down one of the long corridors he heard a door open behind him, but by the time he looked around it had closed again. Harry’s voice caught his ear.
‘That you, Sam? I’m up here. You need to see this.’
CHAPTER 12
Harry Grayson stood silhouetted in the doorway of a room at the far end of a long corridor.
‘Look at this,’ he said.
Sam looked inside and saw a large brightly lit room, windows black against the night sky beyond. On one side a narrow bed was made with hospital precision and sharp corners. A desk, a chair, a rail with a few clothes hanging, a chest of drawers. Sam looked at Harry.
‘Too tidy,’ said Harry. ‘No one lives as neatly as this. Harries was a tidy man, obviously. Didn’t someone say he’d been in the forces? He may have cleared up when he decided to top himself, clear out anything too personal.’
Sam pulled on his gloves. ‘Or someone else did it, someone who knew that we might be looking. Whoever did it, they might have missed something. We need to go through it all.’
‘Leave it, Sam. It’ll keep till the morning. We need to talk to whoever cleans the rooms, check when they came in here, see if they found anything. And we need an example of Harries’s writing to check that note.’
‘There’ll be plenty of those around.’
‘All that can wait till the morning as well,’ said Harry. ‘I’ll tell the boss we’ll be back, and that this room must be locked, off limits to everyone. I could do with the overtime but I could do with the sleep more.’
❖ ❖ ❖
On the way from Roose to Attercliff the following morning Sam had been wondering about the fog, or
was it mist, lying in swathes, patchy and shallow across the flat expanse of the bay. Bonfire Night tonight, he remembered, November 5th. There’d be smoke as well as fog around later, and the usual rash of kids in casualty with burns of various degrees. From the brow of the hill near Attercliff he looked down onto the top of the mist before descending into the murk as the road curved away down the hill towards the shore. There was no wind and when the rain started it fell softly and vertically, straight down the upturned collar of Sam’s coat. Harry Grayson was already at the scene, talking to Sergeant Brewster from the crime scene team. He gestured to Sam to join them.
‘Brewster’s been filling me in on what they’ve found so far.’
Sergeant Brewster drew on his cigarette, and tapped the ash into his cupped hand. ‘That box we found. Looks like an orange box, with a divider in the middle. Could be strong enough to take his weight, before he kicked it away.
‘I saw a stack of orange boxes last night,’ said Sam, ‘behind Monty House, by the bins. He could have carried one of them down here.’
‘If he wanted to do a proper job, he would have needed something to stand on,’ said Harry. ‘If this bloke was serious about doing himself in he’d put it up on one end, stand on it, tie the rope round his neck and the branch and then kick the box away.’
‘Without the box, he might have just choked slowly, not the snap that does the job quickly,’ said Brewster.
‘Forensics will have a good look at the box, and the others up at the house, but it looks pretty straightforward to me. Could be some prints too, on the labels orange boxes usually have ‘
‘Talking of Forensics,’ said Sam, taking a brown evidence bag from his inside pocket, ‘I found another cig butt last night up at the house, in the back yard. That’s where I saw the orange boxes. You lot were gone when I got back down here.’ He handed it over to Brewster. ‘Drop that in for us will you? Could be the same brand as the ones we found here but that doesn’t tell us much. If they were all smoked by the same person that would be very interesting, even if it wouldn’t hold up in court.’