by Vera Morris
If Hager hadn’t worn a bullet-proof vest would Laurel have killed him with the stiletto? If she’d killed him, he wouldn’t have attacked and nearly raped her, but how would she have coped with taking someone’s life? She already carried the guilt of her part in the death of her sister’s murderer. Would she have been able to add to that burden and go on with her life?
The bath water was cooling, and a soapy scum clung to the edges of the bath. Time to move. He stood up and reached for the hand-held shower, flipped the controls and sprayed cold water over his head and body. Revie was coming to Greyfriars this evening.
Laurel helped Mabel and Dorothy clear the supper table, Frank was lighting the fire in the sitting room and Stuart was making coffee. Conversation over their meal had been desultory, everyone had seemed to be engrossed in their own thoughts. In the days since coming back from hospital, Laurel had tried to keep busy, so she couldn’t think about Hager and what might have happened. She’d upped the mileage of her daily run, bought a set of weights in Ipswich, and added them to her keep-fit routine. She’d mowed the lawn within a millimetre of its life, until Dorothy protested, and got Mabel to teach her how to bake bread. She knew her manic behaviour was disturbing the others, but they hadn’t said anything. They understood the reasons behind it.
She went into the sitting room; a log fire was burning brightly, the kindling crackling and throwing red sparks against the fire-bricks, the apple log on top catching fire and sending a sweet smell into the room. Frank was crouched in front of it, poker in hand, staring into the yellow flames.
‘Good fire,’ she said.
Frank straightened up. ‘You can’t beat a fire, there’s something primal and atavistic about leaping flames. Central heating is civilized, but doesn’t warm the soul.’
She joined him, stretching out her hands to the heat. ‘I like the central heating in the morning. I’m not keen on getting up to icy windows and cold clothes.’
Frank put the poker back in the companion set. ‘Thought you were a tough guy.’
‘In case you haven’t noticed I’m a gal not a guy, and I don’t feel too tough at the moment.’
‘Is that why you’ve taken to body building?’
She retreated to an armchair. ‘I wasn’t quite strong enough, was I?’
‘Laurel, if he hadn’t been wearing the body armour, you’d have nailed him. You’re strong enough for me, if you get any stronger I’ll get an inferiority complex.’
She glared at him. ‘That I would like to see.’
Stuart came into the room carrying a tray with several glasses. ‘Having another spat, are we?’
She gave him a glare as well. ‘We can’t all be lovebirds,’ she snarled, then she saw his face. ‘Sorry, Stuart. I’m afraid I’m a bit edgy.’
He put the tray on a sideboard. ‘No need to apologise. You’ve every right to be upset. Like a whisky?’
‘Yes, please. The usual: half and half.’
Stuart poured a measure into a glass and topped it up with water. ‘Frank?’
‘Same. Please.’
She relaxed as Dorothy and Mabel joined them and they settled before the fire, sipping their drinks, waiting for Revie to come.
‘How much will he be able to tell us?’ Dorothy asked.
Stuart shook his head. ‘I don’t know, perhaps very little. Something stinks. We’ve all been told not to discuss the case with anyone, or else!’
‘I have heard one thing, it’s all over Aldeburgh,’ Mabel said.
Dorothy looked miffed. ‘What? I’ve not heard anything.’
‘My son rang me up today. Seems Mrs Pemberton’s
left the town. The rumour is her husband has given her the heave-ho and he’s filing for a divorce. What do you think about that?’
Laurel’s heart plummeted. ‘David must have told his father. How awful.’ Carol would be free. She glanced at Frank. His eyebrows were raised.
‘And Ann Fenner has moved out of the house and has taken a cottage near Nancy Wintle, paid for by Mr Pemberton. It seems he didn’t think it was right for her to sleep in the house now his wife’s gone.’
‘Is she still the housekeeper?’ Dorothy asked.
‘Yes. Gets on like a house on fire with David,’ Mabel replied.
‘I thought they looked well together, her and Mr Pemberton, when I went to fetch him to the hospital,’ Stuart ruminated, having lit up his pipe, sitting close to Mabel on the sofa.
‘You’re jumping the gun, Stuart Elderkin,’ Mabel said, digging him in the ribs.
Stuart tapped his nose. ‘I know a romance when I see one.’
Mabel threw back her head and hooted with laughter. ‘Well, you could have fooled me.’
They were all laughing when the sound of the front door bell made them freeze.
Mabel showed in Revie.
For once he had a solemn face, with none of the old bluster and aggression. ‘This is cosy.’ He nodded as Frank waved a bottle at him. He sat down with a heavy sigh and lifted the glass to them. ‘Here’s to you all.’ He drank the contents of the glass in one quick movement and held it out for a refill.
Frank gave him a good amount. ‘Hope that will last longer than the first. I don’t want to be up and down like a yo-yo.’
‘Feeling chipper, are you?’
‘Yes, shouldn’t I be?’
‘It depends.’
Frank looked at him quizzically.
‘On what you’ll all think, once I’ve told you everything I’m allowed to tell you.’ He took a sip of whisky, ‘Ready?’
They all nodded.
‘It’s big. So big I’ve had to sign the Official Secrets Act and I think you’ll all have to, as well. What I’m going to say is confidential, if it gets back I’ve told you too much, they’ll have my guts for garters. Have I got your words?’
They looked at each other. They all nodded.
‘What about the children at the school? Are they safe? Are they being taken care of?’ Frank asked.
‘Yes, they’re safe. The children from the orphanage have been taken to other homes. They’ll be kept under surveillance and if possible they’ll be found foster parents, and hopefully adopted. The rest of the pupils, who weren’t in danger, as far as we can make out, have been returned to their parents and they’ll be given help to find new schools.’
‘What about John, the frightened boy? Is he safe?’ she asked.
Revie slowly shook his head. ‘No sign of him. We’re searching the school and grounds. Doesn’t look good.’
There was silence.
Her eyes filled with tears.
‘What about Baron and the other staff who were involved?’ Frank asked.
‘Baron and Salmon, the PE teacher, have been arrested, but some of the other staff, the matron and the school cook, have disappeared. Out of the country and back to Mother Russia, I should think.’
‘Mother Russia?’ she said. ‘I don’t understand.’
Revie grimaced and pulled at his nose with thumb and forefinger. ‘Right, what I’m telling you now, I’ll deny I’ve said. Understood?’
They nodded.
‘ It was blackmail for secrets, and not money?’ Frank said.
‘I told them you’d probably worked it out. Yes. From the investigations over the past few days it seems Tucker, with his arty connections in London, and no doubt information from his controllers, invited influential men, with known vices, down to his house near Snape Maltings. Narcotics and aphrodisiacs were found in the house, and using these, and presenting the men with temptations they couldn’t resist, they were photographed performing acts on young boys that would have landed them in gaol and obviously ruined their careers. An upstairs room was used; it has a two-way mirror, and also … a large tapestry.’ He looked at Laurel.
She closed her eyes. John, the frightened boy, standing in front of a tapestry in the photograph in Luxton’s house. Waves of sickness washed over her. She gripped her glass tightly.
‘What was i
n the envelopes?’ Frank asked.
Revie nodded. ‘Ah, the envelopes.’
Waves of anger competed with nausea. Her breathing deepened. ‘What will happen to these men? Whoever they are they should be brought to justice. I don’t know what they did to those poor children, but we know one, Peter, was murdered. They can’t be allowed to escape without being brought to book.’
Revie turned his gaze on her, his eyes like stones. ‘I couldn’t agree more. It seems there was more to it than blackmailing these men for secrets that might be useful to the USSR. The big idea, as far as we can tell, was to bring down the government. Things are dodgy as you know, and the men who’d be exposed are well-known men in all spheres of society, from cabinet ministers to men of the cloth.’
Her mouth felt full of ash.
Dorothy looked sick and Mabel’s head was in her hands; Stuart stared at the fire.
‘They can’t let the government fall. It would be too dangerous,’ Revie said.
‘But what will happen to these men? They can’t be allowed to get away with what they’ve done.’ Her insides were burning.
‘Look, I’m just the messenger. I agree with everything you’re saying. I persuaded them to let me tell you something of what all this means. I thought if I could talk to you, I might persuade you not to go off at half-cock. If you try and do anything about this, if you try to get justice by the usual methods, you’ll be stopped. I mean stopped. Permanently. There’s nothing you can do. All I can say is that various men will be removed from their positions; I wouldn’t be surprised if we don’t hear of some suicides in the next few weeks.’ His voice was anxious, his face worried.
Frank clenched his jaws. He looked furious.
‘You’re a good bunch. You saved David and you’ve saved some of the kids in the school. The two main culprits are dead. Baron and Salmon will never get to trial. What will happen to them? I don’t know. I don’t want to know. I think you’re going to have to swallow this, as I’ve had to.’
‘It’s not right,’ Mabel said.
‘I know,’ Revie said, ‘but you need to go on working. Helping people.’
Stuart got up and tapped his pipe against the fireplace. ‘You’ve put your head on the block for us, haven’t you?’
Revie pulled a face. ‘Perhaps. I’ll tell you something, I’m making copious notes, with as much detail as I can remember. I saw some of the photos of the men involved. I’m going to make those notes and I’m going to put them in a safe place. The time will come when all this will come to light. Sometimes justice is slow, but it’s my belief in the end it usually brings home the bacon.’ He looked at Mabel. ‘Speaking of bacon, Mabel, any chance of a few butties? All this trauma’s given me an appetite.’
Laurel shook her head, she wished she could feel the same.
Chapter 39
Saturday, 29th May, 1971
Laurel and Dorothy entered the church together. They’d tossed a coin before they left Greyfriars to see which side of the church they’d each sit on: she sat in a pew to the left of the aisle, Dorothy to the right, in the pew directly behind Stuart, the groom, and his best man, Frank.
The church was crowded with guests and local people, keen to get a glimpse of not only the bride and groom, but the detectives who’d rescued David Pemberton and been involved in the deaths of five local people.
She looked at Stuart and Frank. Stuart looked nervous, continually turning round as though he expected Mabel to appear in a puff of smoke. He looked smart and substantial in a new dark suit, a red carnation in his buttonhole, matching his red tie. Frank looked handsome. She’d never seen him in a suit before. His hair looked as though it had been trimmed, but it still skimmed his collar. Stuart caught her eye and waved. He turned to Frank, and nudged him. Frank flashed her a bright smile and his lips formed a silent word. She thought it was ‘Stunning!’ She smiled back at him. She’d bought a new blue, wild silk dress; she’d never wear the blue suit again. It had only been creased from hiding it under the bedclothes, but it was associated with murder. She’d given it to Dorothy who said she couldn’t throw it away; she’d find a good home for it. She hoped she wouldn’t meet it again on some other woman.
Nancy Wintle was in the congregation with a friend. Laurel had visited her a few times and gradually Nancy was getting to grips with her brother’s death, and all the terrible things she’d learnt about him. Nancy told her she was selling Sam’s house, though she wasn’t sure anyone would want to buy it. She assured her if the price was right, you could always find a buyer, and it was in a lovely part of the town. Nancy said she was going on a luxury cruise with a friend in September. It was something she’d always wanted to do, now she could afford it. She’d asked Dorothy if she’d like to go with her, but Dorothy had declined; she was too busy with the agency. Dorothy said she was fond of Nancy, but the thought of a cruise, trapped with possibly boring people at your table every night was her idea of hell.
Laurel’s eyes widened. Oliver Neave was sitting at the back of the church on Stuart’s side. She hadn’t seen him for weeks, not since the death of Dr Luxton. He smiled at her, a warm admiring smile. The blue dress was paying for itself. Should she invite him back to the reception at Greyfriars? One more wouldn’t matter and she knew Mabel and Stuart wouldn’t mind. But would Frank? She hoped so.
Inspector Revie was also on Stuart’s side of the church, looking smart but grumpy. Why had he come? Did he have a heart after all? He seemed to have gone up in Frank’s and Stuart’s estimation, but she wasn’t completely won over. Her back stiffened. Adam and David Pemberton came into the church, pausing as Adam talked to a steward. He led them to a pew on the groom’s side. Adam was formally dressed as usual, but David looked different and grown up in a grey suit; a handsome, almost beautiful boy. Heads turned and people whispered as they sat down. It must be hard for them to cope with all the interest and gossip. She wondered where Carol was. She must be heartbroken: her lost son found, and then lost again to her as he refused to see her. Her marriage was over. Laurel hoped she wouldn’t contact Frank. Carol must have realised how much he wanted her. Now she was free. How would he feel if he saw her again? Laurel’s stomach clenched.
The organ music soared through the church. She turned. Mabel, in a lilac suit, high heels and a fetching hat, was led down the aisle by her son. She looked supremely happy, smiling and nodding to all her friends. Stuart had turned and his face was a picture of joy. Laurel bit her lip, trying to stem tears. She was so happy for them and there seemed to be a swelling of good will from all the people here. Would she ever marry? After the end of her engagement she’d decided she’d concentrate on a career, but when you saw two people so happy to be together, and willing to give themselves to each other, a longing to do the same surged through her. Would she ever find her soul mate? Could it be Oliver Neave? Or was her soul mate the unattainable Frank?
* * *
In a marquee on the lawn of Greyfriars house, Frank was seated at the top table, next to Stuart. The speeches were over, the meal eaten, some people were leaving, the rest chatting and sipping the dregs of wine or coffee. Laurel was on his other side. She looked beautiful in a shimmering blue dress, hatless, her hair swept up in a style he hadn’t seen before. It was a happy day for Stuart and Mabel, and now the church service was over, they seemed relaxed, talking to each other and occasionally getting up and chatting to their guests.
He was able to see all the other people who were seated at the two long tables at right angles to the top table. Somehow Revie had managed to wangle his way in. He was chatting away to a woman wearing a basket of fruit on her head. Perhaps he was partial to a few cherries. Revie had told him, because of the help and cooperation the police had received from the Anglian Detective Agency, it had been decided a special relationship between the Suffolk constabulary and their firm, with Inspector Revie as the intermediary, would be established. This was to be an informal relationship; no official announcement would be made. He didn’t have to
look far to understand the secrecy. Too many questions would be asked. It was a sop to them for their cooperation. A cooperation they didn’t have any choice in. He’d been disillusioned with various aspects of policing when he’d resigned and set up the detective agency, but that disillusionment had spread to politics and other areas of power. However, if they’d have police help and cooperation for future cases, that couldn’t be bad and he didn’t mind working with Revie. He thought, just thought, his heart might be in the right place.
Stuart was laughing at something Mabel said.
Frank turned towards them. ‘Don’t use up all the good times too soon, Stuart.’
‘You’re in a cynical mood today. Is that what weddings do to you?’ Stuart asked.
Frank raised an eyebrow. ‘Everything’s going smoothly. No one’s had a row with their neighbour, or thrown trifle over the vicar. Bit boring, isn’t it?’
Stuart shook his head. ‘I’m quite happy with boring. We’ve had enough excitement lately.’
‘Nonsense,’ Frank said. ‘It’s nearly two months at least, since we’ve had a murder.’
Stuart leant across Frank. ‘Laurel! Can you do something about this man; he’s in a most peculiar mood. Talk some sense into him.’
Laurel was talking to Oliver Neave who was on her right, another unexpected guest, though how she’d sneaked him onto the top table he wasn’t sure. Probably Dorothy’s doing. Little Miss Fix-it.
Laurel said something to Neave and leant over Frank to talk to Stuart. The warmth of her body through the fine fabric and her light floral perfume made him flinch. He remembered how it had felt when Carol was close to him; her heady perfume seemed to replace Laurel’s.
‘I’ve given up on him, Stuart. He’s been in this mood for weeks. The sooner we start another case the better.’