Lethal Dose; Lethal Justice; Lethal Mind

by Robert McCracken

  ‘I’m sorry, Tara. That was insensitive of me.’ He got out of bed and put his arms around her.

  ‘What was all the mystery the last time you were here with me?’

  ‘What mystery?’

  ‘Firstly, you seemed to be searching for something when we were driving in Wales. Then you said that there was something you were unable to share with me. Is it personal? Is there someone else?’

  He gave her a playful squeeze and a peck on the forehead. Tara wondered if he was stalling, and she prepared herself for disappointment.

  ‘Well?’

  He sat down again on the bed, his face serious.

  ‘There is no one else, honestly, but you have to trust me when I say that there are some things about me that I cannot tell you. Particularly…,’

  ‘Particularly what?’

  ‘Please, trust me on this. That’s all I can say, at least until you’ve finished working on this case.’ He began dressing, and Tara was left perplexed.

  ‘The case? What’s that got to do with us?’

  ‘It’s how we met, for one thing.’

  ‘Fine. I won’t mention it again until we crack this case. I don’t know why I’m saying that, but remember this Philip, I do not tolerate men who mess me around. My two friends have an even lower threshold when it comes to protecting me. Tell me, do you behave this way with your parents?’

  ‘Absolutely. I can’t and don’t tell them everything I get up to in Cambridge.’

  *

  At St Anne Street Murray was at his desk, his head down, reading. Paula Bleasdale beckoned her as she walked through the door.

  ‘Morning, mam. I’ve just given DS Murray some info on the Kirkmans. And I found an address for the parents of the girl you mentioned yesterday.’

  ‘Her parents are still living?’

  ‘Seems so, assuming I’ve got the right people.’ She handed her a Post-it with an address in Bootle scribbled on it.

  ‘Thanks, Paula.’

  ‘No problem. Are you all right, mam?’

  Trust another woman to notice. She gave a single nod.

  ‘I’m fine, why?’

  ‘You seem a bit… tearful.’

  She longed to explain, to tell someone how she was feeling, but not at the station. She couldn’t do it here. Paula was sweet for taking notice, but she didn’t know her well enough. It would be easier to speak with Kate.

  ‘Didn’t sleep well,’ she said. Paula nodded her understanding, or at most her acceptance of a feeble excuse.

  ‘DS Murray has something else to show you.’

  She made her way to Murray’s desk. He looked up and smiled as though he’d just picked a winner at Aintree.

  ‘Have a look at this, mam,’ he said, rising from his seat and indicating that she should read what he had on his screen. ‘A couple of stories on the Mitchell-Hargreaves affair. Old newspapers from twenty years ago.’

  She took Murray’s seat, clicked the mouse, and began to read the story on the screen. It was taken from a daily tabloid and dated nearly twenty-two years ago, approximately three years after the death of Alastair Bailey. The headline read:

  Is this the end for Dale and Trudy?

  A photograph below showed a dishevelled looking Hargreaves leaving a London nightclub with an unidentified girl hanging on his arm. There followed a speculative report on the private, or not so private life, of the Shakespearean and television actor Dale Hargreaves. At the time of the story Hargreaves was forty-seven years old, he’d been married twice and the second marriage had been in the spotlight because Trudy Mitchell, a pretty twenty-year old, had been brought into the marital home. Since Hargreaves had children, there was speculation that she may have been employed as a nanny. That seemed unlikely, the report read, since Mitchell already had a blossoming career on television.

  The report continued in the same vein, highlighting the occasions when all three, Hargreaves, his wife Amy and Mitchell, stepped out at celebrity functions, and the time when Hargreaves spoke of his interest in the occult and how his beliefs allowed such a ménage a trois.

  Tara was already bored by the story. She didn’t care much to read about some bizarre romantic setup when she had one of her own to deal with. Apart from confirming that Hargreaves was involved in devil-worship of some kind, there was nothing to be had from the piece. The purpose of the story, however, was to hint that the relationship between Mitchell and Hargreaves was at an end. Tara scrolled on to another report, similar in content, although it suggested that all three people in the relationship were involved with occult practices. A photograph of Trudy Mitchell wearing only bikini briefs with her arms covering her breasts, showed her to be a beautiful young girl. There were several shorter pieces on Mitchell, or on Hargreaves and his wife. Tara scrolled through them searching for something that would link Hargreaves to Alastair Bailey or perhaps to an association with the Kirkmans. She was convinced now the name Kirkman lay at the centre of all that occurred twenty-five years ago.

  Eventually, she found a story reporting that Hargreaves had been interviewed by Merseyside Police in connection with the murder of Alastair Bailey. He had been questioned, the report said, because Hargreaves and Bailey had been involved, allegedly, with black masses. He was released without charge. She couldn’t find anything on whether Trudy Mitchell had been questioned at the time. The final stories of interest were from less than twenty years ago and dealt with the death of Dale Hargreaves. He died of natural causes, a massive heart attack while on the set in Hampshire of a new TV period drama. The mystery came afterwards. No one ever attended a funeral and no one, including his wife, seemed to know, or at least was not prepared to reveal, what had happened to his body.

  Chapter 44

  Vicki’s disappearance caused a bit of a stir. Seems she was a well-known and popular girl around Liverpool. Certainly lots of friends, all of them mystified by her vanishing off the face of the earth. Ex-husband has been questioned by police, and the papers mentioned that Vicki’s marriage had been stormy, both husband and wife having affairs before the final split. I love this kind of thing, suspicions falling on the husband. It draws the police away from the likes of me. No one has come up with any reason why an attractive thirty-eight-year-old woman would simply disappear unless she had been abducted. If the husband doesn’t have an alibi for the time when Vicki was supposed to have disappeared he’s fucked. The police have appealed for witnesses to any peculiar activities in and around Vicki’s home. In other words, they haven’t got a baldy notion what happened to her. At this rate my work will be featured once again on Crimewatch. And while they waste tax payers’ money searching for her, Vicki is safe and sound at the bottom of the Irish Sea. I reckon one more girl and I’ll be ready for another crack at Tara Grogan.

  Took myself down to The Swallow’s Tail for a celebratory pint. My tasty blonde friend said she would be there, but she was a no show. I waited a couple of hours for nothing. Seems a bit scatty this one. I really should try and check her out. Follow her, get an idea of her routine if she has one. I know nothing about her, and she knows nothing about me. We’ve hardly spoken and yet she keeps popping up on my radar. Can’t help thinking that there is something very strange about her.

  Chapter 45

  Trudy Mitchell appeared less relaxed than she had been on their first meeting. Surprising, considering she was seated in her apartment in the Salford Quays, a place she used when working at the studios, a short walk away. Home nowadays was a cottage in Oxfordshire, to where she retreated at every opportunity. This morning she was less well dressed, a pair of blue leggings, a pink vest and long navy cardigan, her feet in a pair of slippers. With less make-up and untidy hair, she looked closer to her true age. She sat, looking perturbed, on the edge of her sofa as Tara explained the reasons for her second visit.

  ‘I wanted to ask you about your relationship with Dale Hargreaves.’

  ‘And how is that relevant to your inquiry, Inspector?’

  ‘As you
told us, there was much information to be found in the press from the time you and Hargreaves were together. It was also reported that Hargreaves admitted having an interest in the occult. I would like to know how far that interest extended and your involvement, please.’

  Mitchell looked from Tara to Murray, both seated opposite her on a sofa. It was as if she were considering whether or not to offer any reply at all. But Tara already had a wealth of experience with these kind of people and their reluctance to assist the police. She was happy to wait. Before she left St Anne Street she’d learned from Paula, who’d been studying the Bailey case files, that Mitchell had indeed been interviewed by police at the time but had denied any association with Alastair Bailey.

  ‘There’s very little to tell,’ she said at last. ‘When I lived with Dale he would go off, sometimes for three or four days. When he came back he was always cagey about where he’d been. I used to pester him with questions, and eventually, one weekend, he and Amy brought me along to one of his gatherings.’

  ‘Where did you go?’

  ‘I really can’t remember, but it was out in the countryside. It was late at night and very dark. A farmhouse, perhaps.’

  ‘Can you remember any of the people you met there?’ Mitchell shook her head. Tara noticed a pack of cigarettes on the coffee table. The woman looked as though she needed one, but probably didn’t smoke indoors.

  ‘Last time we met you told us that you had not been interviewed by police when they were investigating the death of Alastair Bailey.’

  ‘Did I? You know, Inspector I still can’t recall.’

  ‘We now know that you were questioned, and you claimed not to have known the murdered man.’

  ‘Then I suppose that’s correct if you say it is.’ Mitchell seemed visibly relieved by her own reply. But Tara had a notion that Trudy Mitchell still knew more of those times than she had admitted and, if so, Tara was willing to bet that she would not appreciate her next question.

  ‘Did you meet the Kirkmans at this gathering you spoke of? Dinsdale or Charles?’

  Mitchell turned pale, she glanced again from Tara to Murray. Tara as before was happy to wait for an answer.

  ‘Yes, I think I remember that name, but I can’t say for sure that I ever met either one.’

  Murray weighed in with a question.

  ‘Do you know what happened to Dale Hargreaves’ remains?’ Trudy Mitchell looked directly at Murray with a forced smile bordering on a sneer.

  ‘Our relationship ended long before Dale’s passing.’

  ‘But do you know what happened to his body?’

  The smile slipped from her face, replaced by a look of contempt.

  ‘And I’ve just told you that we were not together at the time he died.’

  ‘What about Amy?’ asked Tara. ‘Does she know what happened to her husband’s remains?’

  ‘She may well have done, Inspector, but she died three years ago.’

  Murray had another go at the woman.

  ‘Strange set up you had going back then. You in a relationship with Dale and yet you lived with him and his wife.’

  ‘Bizarre as it may seem, Sergeant, all three of us were happy with the arrangement. Now I think this meeting is over. I’m not prepared to answer any further questions as you seem determined to delve into my private life. I can’t see how any of it is relevant to your investigation.’ She rose from the sofa, suggesting that Tara and Murray should head to the door.

  They stepped into the hallway of the apartment block, but Tara wasn’t quite finished with Trudy Mitchell.

  ‘You know, Ms Mitchell, three people have been murdered. The latest victim was Dinsdale Kirkman, and he is in some way linked to whatever occurred twenty-five years ago. I will come back again if I find that you have not been forthcoming with information.’

  The woman smiled weakly.

  ‘I’m sure you will, Inspector. Goodbye.’

  They waited in the corridor for the lift to ascend.

  ‘Infuriating woman. What is she hiding that prevents her helping in a murder investigation?’

  ‘Still, a fine looking specimen.’ Murray pressed the button in the lift for the ground floor.

  ‘Oh, Alan, for goodness sake, let’s leave your fantasies out of it for now. Did you notice when I told her Dinsdale Kirkman had been murdered?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Her eyes lit up. Just for a second, but she definitely felt something on hearing that news.’

  ‘She and Malcroft are the closest we’ve got to whatever happened all those years ago. Is Trudy holding back because she was involved in some way along with Hargreaves in Bailey’s murder, or is she merely holding back on her private relationship?’

  ‘Whatever, but her motive is in protecting herself be it staying out of jail or simply preserving her celebrity reputation.’

  Chapter 46

  The Pritchards were now in their eighties. Tara had made an appointment by telephone to see them. She didn’t want to shock the couple by turning up unannounced on their doorstep.

  Norman Pritchard, not a tall man but fairly agile for his age with thin silver-hair and sagging flesh on his face, answered the door. He led them into a back sitting room where Molly Pritchard, a tiny lady with permed silver hair, was seated on a reclining chair in the corner and watching television.

  ‘Turn down the sound, Molly. Police are here.’

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Pritchard,’ said Tara.

  There was little response from the frail lady, who merely smiled at her visitors and mumbled something. Norman seized the remote and muted the sound on the TV.

  ‘Our Molly has Alzheimer’s, likes the antiques shows on telly.’

  Tara smiled at the woman, and she and Murray were invited to sit. The room was clean and tidy with comfortable furniture and homely décor, a flowery print wallpaper, several family photographs hanging on the walls and three displayed on a mahogany unit. A collection of delicate china figurines was lined along the tiled mantelpiece. A gas fire pumped out heat that Tara already found stifling.

  ‘We wanted to ask you about your late daughter, Kelly, Mr Pritchard. Was she your only child?’

  ‘Goodness no. Three lads and two daughters. Kelly was the second youngest.’

  ‘So you have plenty of family around you?’

  ‘Yes, except for our Mark. He’s a doctor in New Zealand now. Doing ever so well.’

  ‘Would you mind telling us about what happened to Kelly all those years ago?’

  Tara noticed Molly stirring on her chair, and again the woman attempted to speak, but there was only a jumble of half-spoken words.

  ‘Must be twenty-five years ago, I think. Kelly were about thirty at the time. No, let me think. Started before then. I think she were about twenty-seven.’

  ‘What started?’

  ‘Got herself involved with a strange bunch of people. Her and her boyfriend at the time. Strange lad. Didn’t seem to have a job but never looked short of money either. Anyway, they started going to this church. That’s what they called it, but it didn’t seem like no church to me. Not like Christian. Might have been Buddhist or some other mumbo jumbo. Broke our Molly’s heart. You read stories all the time about young people going to join these weird cults and that’s the last you hear of them. Remember that place in America where all those people died? Waco, I think it was called. That was down to some strange cult.’

  ‘Was it called the Church of the Crystal Water?’ Tara asked.

  Norman Pritchard thought for a moment then shook his head.

  ‘No, luv. I can’t remember the name, but I don’t think it was called that.’

  Tara looked at Murray, her confusion deepening. At every turn they found something else new and then were struggling to find true verification. It seemed that Philip had been correct; the Crystal Water Church had no connection with this mystery.

  ‘It was a while before they left home,’ Norman continued. ‘First time they went to America. Took little Corey
with them, and when they came back they had our little granddaughter Aeron.’

  ‘Kelly had two children?’

  ‘Yes, lovely kids they were.’

  ‘Were? What happened to them?’

  ‘When Kelly got sick with the brain tumour, they stayed with their dad, Keron, the weird boyfriend. Kelly spent more time here with us. But once she found out from the hospital that she didn’t have long, she said that she wanted to be with her family. When she got back with Keron they decided to go to their church community so that Kelly could spend her last days there.’

  ‘Is that when you reported her missing to police?’

  ‘We only did that so we could find out where this church community was based. We wanted to see Kelly before she died. In the end we were too late. Keron contacted us and said that Kelly’s spirit had moved on. They were holding whatever kind of funeral those sort of people do. It was better if we did not attend.’

  ‘What about the children?’

  ‘Keron said they were staying with him in the church community. He told us he was soon going back to America. Never heard from him after that.’

  ‘Do you know where this community was located?’

  ‘We found an address among Kelly’s things that Keron sent to us. We thought it might be the place where Kelly died. One day we drove out there, but it was just a big country house with a couple of people living in it. Certainly weren’t no church. Lady of the house told us it was a family home and that it used to be a farm. Didn’t know anything about a church community.’

  ‘Do you think you could take us there?’

  ‘It’s been twenty-odd years, luv, but I suppose I might remember once I get me bearings. Only thing is that I can’t leave our Molly on her own.’

  ‘How about if you go with DS Murray, and I’ll keep Molly company?’

  ‘Do you hear that, Molly? This young girl’s going to look after you while I’m out.’

  Molly looked at her husband and smiled. ‘Now you behave yourself, I won’t be long.’ There was some mumbling as Norman kissed his wife on the forehead and turned up the sound on the television.