Silent Graves

by Sally Rigby

  ‘If I do, I can’t remember. All I know is I didn’t see the girls on the day they went missing. I’ve already told you that.’

  ‘If you do think of anything else, let me know,’ Whitney said, handing him a card. ‘I’ll ask a carer to come up to take you to the toilet.’

  ‘Don’t bother. I’ve got a bag.’ He laughed as he pulled up his trouser leg to reveal a catheter. ‘Sucker,’ he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for Whitney to hear.

  They left his room and once out of earshot Whitney turned to George.

  ‘We need the name of the student who died. If Anita and Jayne sold him the drugs that killed, that would give someone a strong motive to get revenge.’

  ‘Agreed. Are you going to see your mother, now?’

  ‘Yes, if you don’t mind,’ Whitney said, as she checked her watch.

  ‘I’ll wait for you in the car.’

  ‘Thanks. I won’t be long as it’s almost time for her lunch, then you can drop me back to the station.’

  They headed downstairs and parted as Whitney wandered towards the day room. She walked inside and looked across to where her mum usually sat. The chair was empty. She glanced around to see if she was sitting somewhere else, but she wasn’t. She turned and marched back to the reception desk where Angela, one of the care assistants, was seated.

  ‘If you’re looking for your mum, she wasn’t feeling well so Riki’s taken her to her room for a rest.’

  Whitney tensed. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘She had a headache from not sleeping very well last night. Nothing to worry about.’

  ‘I’ll go to see her.’

  She headed over to the stairs and jogged up them. When she reached her mum’s room the door was open slightly and she popped her head around. Riki was standing by the bed and smiled when she saw Whitney.

  ‘Come in,’ the care assistant said. ‘She’s just fallen asleep.’

  ‘I was hoping to speak to her,’ Whitney said, unable to hide the despondency in her voice.

  ‘She’s not having a good day, today. She kept asking me who I was and whether I knew where Roger was because they were meant to be going out for lunch at The Swan pub.’

  ‘That’s my dad. He’s been dead for twelve years. The Swan was their favourite place to eat out, and where they went to celebrate birthdays and anniversaries.’ She sighed loudly and shook her head.

  In a way, she was glad her mum was asleep because when she was in her own little world and didn’t know Whitney, or remember anything about their life, it just about crucified her. And it was going to get worse. Whitney had been warned there would come a time when her mum wouldn’t know her at all. She couldn’t bear the thought of that happening. How would Rob cope? He sort of understood their mum wasn’t well but didn’t grasp the full extent of it. How could he?

  She’d have to make the most of when her mum was lucid and in touch with reality. But for how long?

  Chapter 20

  When Whitney arrived for work in the morning she was surprised to see Ellie already seated at her desk working. She hung her coat and scarf on the back of the door and wandered through into the incident room and over to see the officer.

  ‘You’re in early.’

  Ellie glanced up and smiled. ‘I stayed overnight at my boyfriend’s house and he had an early start this morning, so I left when he did. I’ve got a lot to do and it’s always easier when the office is empty.’

  Whitney stared open-mouthed at the officer. Ellie was as bad as Matt, her old sergeant, for keeping her personal life close to her chest. This was the first time she’d ever volunteered any information about her boyfriend, who Whitney knew nothing about. She’d love to find out more but knew to wait until Ellie was ready to tell her.

  ‘Yes, the noise can get distracting at times. How’s it going? Have you found our dead student yet?’ She was anxious to move the investigation forward, now they actually had more to work with.

  ‘I was just making some final checks, but yes. I think so. I’ve looked through all the coroner’s reports for the six months leading up to the time the two girls went missing and discovered a Justin Robertson, who was found dead in his bed by his parents the day after his sixteenth birthday. His death was recorded as accidental, following an adverse reaction to taking an amphetamine drug.’

  ‘Sixteen.’ Whitney shook her head, letting out a sigh. ‘What a waste of a life. Have you been able to track down his family?’

  ‘His parents, Peggy and Kenneth, still live in Lenchester. They’re at 65 Hampton Street, which is close to St Paul’s school.’

  ‘Good work on finding everything so quickly. Can you tell me anything else about the family?’

  ‘His parents have retired … they’re both in their seventies. Mr Robertson was an electrician and Mrs Robertson worked for over thirty years for the council in their accounts department. Justin was their only child.’

  ‘I couldn’t think of anything worse,’ Whitney muttered. ‘How on earth were they able to deal with it?’

  ‘I don’t know, guv. It must have been a horrible time for them,’ Ellie said, as she returned to staring at her screen.

  Whitney headed for her office, pulled out her phone and called George.

  ‘We’ve identified the young boy who died,’ she said, once George had answered. ‘Is there any chance you can come with me to speak to his parents?’

  ‘Not today, sorry. I’ve got back-to-back meetings and I’ve no idea what time they’ll finish. Late, knowing the staff here.’

  Damn.

  ‘No problem. I’ll take Brian.’

  ‘That’s a much better option,’ George said.

  Was it? She was still miffed at him being unable to come with her yesterday, but she couldn’t sideline him. Maybe he would tell her what was so important he wasn’t able to work. She’d use their time together as an opportunity to get to know him better. George would be proud of her.

  She grabbed her coat and returned to the office, noting that the rest of the team had arrived. She called them to attention.

  ‘I’m shortly going to go and see the parents of Justin Robertson who died from taking drugs our victims sold him. Brian, I want you with me. They still live in Lenchester, so it won’t take us long to get there.’

  ‘Yes, guv.’

  ‘Where are we on the other lines of enquiry?’

  ‘I’ve identified the three farm workers,’ Brian said. ‘Alf Simpson, Bert Best and Wayne Cross. Simpson is dead, so we can’t interview him. Cross is in Rugby and Best is here in Lenchester.’

  ‘Good. You can go when we return from seeing the Robertsons. Take Meena with you.’

  She hadn’t yet witnessed any issues between them, despite what she’d learnt on their first day and hoped that the more they worked together the more their relationship would develop. She had no problems with Meena, who so far was conscientious and hard-working.

  ‘Yes, guv.’

  ‘Frank, Doug. Anything from the past pupils and teachers of St Paul’s?’

  ‘I’ve spoken to several teachers,’ Doug said. ‘And none of them had anything good to say about the girls, in particular Anita. They were disruptive, rude and universally disliked.’

  ‘It was the same with the students,’ Frank added. ‘All I’m getting is confirmation of what we’ve already learnt from the interview with Kathleen Henderson. They weren’t liked, and kids were scared of them.’ He paused. ‘You know, if you asked me who I went to school with, I’d be hard-pressed to remember one or two. But every person I spoke to remembered Anita and Jayne very well. That’s saying something.’

  ‘Did you learn anything new about the day they disappeared?’

  ‘No, guv. Maybe the whole class got together and killed them. Like a joint murder,’ Frank said.

  ‘Don’t even joke about it,’ she said, not wanting to contemplate it.

  ‘You’ve been reading too many Stephen King books, that’s your trouble,’ Doug said.

/>   ‘Stephen who?’ Frank frowned.

  ‘Surely even you know who he is. Remember the film Misery?’

  ‘Yes. It was great.’

  ‘It was based on one of King’s books.’

  ‘Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?’

  ‘I didn’t think you’d—’

  ‘Button it, you two,’ Whitney said wagging her finger in their direction. ‘Come on, Brian, let’s go. We’ll leave the children to it. We’ll take your car.’

  Brian strode over to the coat hook which stood in the corner of the room, took his navy jacket from the hanger and shrugged it on. He was certainly well dressed. Probably the best dressed out of the team. Was it a throwback to his Met days? They left the room and walked down the corridor to the lift. The door opened to reveal Douglas standing in the corner.

  Crap. Part of her wanted to turn around and take the stairs, but Brian had already stepped into the lift. Douglas ignored Whitney and smiled at Brian.

  ‘Good to see you, son.’

  She blinked. Son? What the hell was going on here? How did Dickhead know Brian?

  ‘Good to see you too, sir,’ Brian said standing right next to him.

  That suited her fine, as she stood on the opposite side of the lift, as close to the edge as she could get.

  ‘How’s it going in the new team?’ Douglas asked, in his usual pompous voice.

  ‘Very well, thank you, sir.’ Brian glanced in her direction, but she didn’t acknowledge him, instead kept staring ahead at the lift door.

  ‘There’s a match coming up at the weekend, will you be there?’ Douglas asked.

  ‘Yes, sir. I’m playing at right back. Will you make it?’

  Seriously? They socialised as well?

  ‘Most definitely. We’ve got to beat them if we want a chance of winning the league. We’re relying on you.’

  Were they discussing football? Surely Dickhead wasn’t playing, not at his age. Unless he was in goal as he wouldn’t have to do much moving about in that position. Just a bit of lolloping around. She allowed herself a tiny smile.

  ‘We will,’ Brian said, emphatically. ‘All the lads are determined to make it happen.’

  Remind her to bring out her cheerleading outfit. She could go and wave her pom-poms. Preferably in Dickhead’s face.

  ‘Glad to hear it. Where are you off to now?’ Douglas asked.

  ‘Interviewing the parents of a dead student.’

  ‘Which case are you working on?’

  Brian glanced at her and she gave a nod. She couldn’t have stopped him from telling Douglas, who had every right to know, but it pleased her that Brian sought her permission first.

  ‘The two teenage girls found on Oak Tree Farm who’d been buried there since 1980.’

  ‘Oh, yes, of course. Superintendent Clyde told me about that.’ The lift stopped at the ground floor and they all got out. ‘Well, keep up the good work,’ he said to Brian, totally blanking Whitney.

  They headed in the opposite direction and she was quiet until they were out of earshot of Douglas.

  ‘I didn’t know you and the chief super socialised,’ she said to Brian, forcing her voice to stay calm.

  ‘I knew him from the Met, before he moved to the Regional Force. He’s a good bloke. Gets things done.’

  A good bloke. Not if you wear a skirt.

  ‘Did you know he was moving to Lenchester?’ she asked, forcing her expression to remain neutral.

  ‘No, guv. But I was pleased when I found out. Didn’t he used to work here, years ago?’

  ‘Yes. He was a sergeant when I joined the force.’

  ‘Did you know each other?’

  ‘Yes, why?’

  ‘Because neither of you acknowledged one another.’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ she said waving her hand dismissively. And not one she was prepared to share.

  ‘He’s helping coach the Lenchester police football team.’

  ‘You’ve joined it already?’ Was that why he couldn’t make it yesterday, because he was socialising?

  ‘It’s a joint Willsden and Lenchester team. We’ve got some ace players and with the chief super involved we’ll kick arse.’

  ‘Oh.’ It was all she would allow herself to say, not trusting that she could keep her true feelings hidden. George would be proud of her restraint. ‘Let’s get going. The journey to the Robertsons’ house will take us about fifteen minutes.’

  Chapter 21

  Mr and Mrs Robertson lived in a 1930s semi-detached house in a working-class area of the city. It was similar to the area Whitney in which had been brought up and was mostly respectable. The dodgy parts she remembered well as when she worked in uniform she’d spent many a shift there sorting out disturbances, some of which turned very nasty.

  Before getting out of the car, she looked at Brian. ‘Remember the rules this time. I’ll do the talking and you listen.’

  She couldn’t make it any plainer, so he had no excuse for not following.

  ‘What if I think of something that you haven’t asked?’ Brian said.

  ‘Chances are, I have thought about it and dismissed it as unnecessary at this point, so unless you’re a mind reader, I talk, you observe.’

  She injected a sharp tone to her voice. Their relationship wouldn’t work if he tried to second-guess her all of the time. She understood that he wanted to impress her, as the senior officer, but he also needed to learn when and where it was appropriate.

  ‘Okay, guv. I get it.’

  ‘Remember, we don’t know what state these parents are going to be in when we ask them about Justin. It might have been many years since he died, but I’m sure that day is etched indelibly on their minds and for us to dredge it up will most likely be extremely difficult for them. They won’t ever forget losing their child, especially in those circumstances.’

  ‘Yes, guv, I do realise it’s not going to be easy for them. I’m not totally insensitive, you know.’

  Did he just roll his eyes? She didn’t think she’d come across as preachy but …

  ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  They walked down the short path and past the well-kept garden which had a small square of lawn with neat borders and was filled with green shrubs around the edge.

  The rust coloured door had a gold knocker in the middle and Whitney used it to tap. After a few moments, she could hear shuffling footsteps and an elderly man answered. He was about five feet ten and wiry. The red and black checked shirt he was wearing hung off his shoulders.

  ‘Yes?’ he said, his pale, alert grey eyes staring back at them.

  ‘Mr Robertson?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘That’s me. Who are you?’

  ‘I’m Detective Chief Inspector Walker and this is Detective Sergeant Chapman.’ She held out her warrant card and he peered intently at it. ‘We’d like to come in and have a word with you, if we may.’

  ‘What’s it about?’

  ‘We’d rather not talk on the street.’

  ‘If you don’t tell me then you can’t come in,’ he said, folding his arms. His veined hands were pale and covered with brown age spots.

  She was surprised by his tone as she’d shown him her identification and they weren’t attempting to enter his house for unscrupulous reasons. Had he been the victim of a crime in the past involving people coming into his house?

  ‘It’s about Justin.’

  At the mention of his son’s name, Mr Robertson’s face lost its colour, but he quickly pulled himself together.

  ‘I’m sorry if I came across as rude, but we hear all these stories about people trying to get into your homes by pretending to be workmen or government officials and then they steal your possessions without you even realising. You can’t be too careful.’

  ‘I did show you my warrant card,’ she said gently.

  ‘They can fake those easily enough,’ he said.

  ‘I understand. It’s better to be wary rather than too trusting when there are str
angers around. May we come in now?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ He opened the door fully so they could enter. ‘My wife’s in the sitting room. We were just about to have our morning coffee.’

  She could murder a coffee. Coming face to face with Douglas had put her on edge. For now, though, it was more important they spoke to the couple about their son.

  ‘We won’t keep you long,’ she said.

  They followed him into a square room, which reminded her of the house she had lived in growing up. The walls were covered with woodchip paper which was painted a pale peach colour, and the carpet was a chocolate brown. Seated on a floral easy chair, that matched the three-seater sofa, was an elderly woman.

  ‘It’s the police, Peggy,’ Mr Robertson said.

  ‘What’s happened?’ she asked, her eyes wide, as she stood and stepped towards her husband, standing close to him.

  She was about Whitney’s height, round with short silver-grey hair that looked as if it had recently been set.

  ‘We’d like to talk to you about Justin,’ Whitney said.

  The woman exchanged a glance with her husband, a worried expression on her face. ‘What about him?’

  ‘Please will you both sit down.’ Whitney waited until they were seated on the sofa and then sat on the chair vacated by Mrs Robertson. Brian stood by the door. Was he doing that because of their last interview? She’d explain that in future he should sit as standing could be intimidating, especially with older people like the Robertsons. ‘I know it must be hard to talk about Justin even after all this time.’

  ‘Yes, it is’ Mrs Robertson said, her eyes glistening.

  ‘We’re investigating the deaths of two girls who were in Justin’s year at school.’

  ‘The ones they found at the farm?’ Mr Robertson asked.

  ‘Yes, that’s correct. The girls were Anita Bailey and Jayne Kennedy. Did you know them?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Mrs Robertson said. ‘We might have seen them, but Justin had lots of friends and they would all come here after school. He said they liked it here because I did lots of baking. They’d go to his bedroom and play records. I still remember. It …’