“Samuel! Is that you, Pamela?”
The man smiled. “Got it in one. Come in, come in. This must come as a bit of a shock.”
The room still held the familiar scent of lavender.
“Tea, coffee?” Sam perched on the edge of the sofa.
Liz stared at Samuel. She found it hard to comprehend fully. He was more masculine that she thought possible after meeting Pamela. It was probably the hair and the clothing. He even carried himself in a different way.
“You find it strange, Liz? You’re not on your own, so do I. Tea or coffee?”
“No, thanks. Just some answers to some questions. Firstly, why Samuel?”
“I was meeting someone, someone who doesn’t know Pamela exists and I occasionally dress like this for my aunt. She thinks that Samuel is my brother. It’s confusing but I’ve learned to cope with it.”
“You mentioned at our last visit that everyone from Ilkley knew you as Pamela, have things …”
A voice from upstairs broke the conversation. “Is that you, Sam?”
“Yes Auntie, I’ll be up shortly.”
“Is Pamela with you? I can hear talking.”
“Yes.” There was a pause and Samuel crossed his fingers. “Not really a lie! Sorry you were saying.”
“So your Aunt believes you to be two people?”
“She does now but it’s only been recently.” Samuel smiled.
Liz looked into his eyes and wondered how Samuel had suddenly become another person in her life. She moved on determined to remember to discuss the fact in the next briefing.
“I paid a visit to Clearmount School as you are part of our enquiry, as you know. The accusations made by your pupils must have been traumatising for you as a young teacher.”
“It’s a long time ago, it’s in the past. Even had they never been made, I would be doing what I’m doing now…caring, let’s say it’s a calling. Being Samuel was a necessary evil but it served a purpose. As I said to you before, my mother and my aunt were the ones who protected me, who truly loved me when everything was against me. There have been others too who have given me support, been kind and understanding.”
“Why did you not involve the police if you knew the accusations were false?”
“Because, Liz, they would all think that the lady protested too much, you know the saying? Young teacher, having a few discipline problems, teaching spoiled brats. Makes an interesting equation. Initially four boys made the claims against me but that quickly changed to just two. You probably know that two withdrew their statements and suggested that the other two were lying. Besides, the Head had made it very clear when she interviewed me off the record that the school’s reputation was paramount. That interview suggested that there was only going to be one outcome. I also had to protect someone else.”
“Someone else? Allegedly, one of the boys, Adrian Smyth, saw you as Pamela when he was in Manchester.”
Samuel laughed. “ As I said, I had to protect someone else. The dear Head teacher didn’t know Pamela and myself apart; she thought Pamela was my girlfriend. Goodness I had some fun with that cow when she called round during my illness. A Mr Smyth did see me in Manchester but it wasn’t Adrian it was his father Brewster. I hadn’t a clue who he was when we met. I was in a bar known for its certain clientele when he offered me a drink. We met a few times. He knew my gender and I knew what he wanted; he was older, he was rich and it was fun.”
“Did you have sexual relations with him?”
“Goodness, yes. He would book hotel rooms. Always sign himself as Dr Smith. Funny that, no one batted an eyelid! We spent some weekends away. I think he was having difficulties at home. It was after a couple of weekends that I realised who he was when he was talking about his son. Strangely, the secret gave me a confidence boost in the classroom. I held a secret over the lad. When we were away one weekend he heard me chatting on the phone. I used my surname Shepherd, not Dixon; he put two and two together. I guess during one of the many arguments at home I was mentioned and Adrian overheard the conversation. Bingo! Within forty-eight hours the rumours started, the knickers etc. The rest you know. Nothing went on with the boys, there was no touching, the shower allegations, they were all bollocks but I had two choices, I either fought it or I pulled away. The Smyth marriage didn’t last, it was shaky before he approached me.”
So what happened then?”
“I was off work. Brewster was kind and made sure I was OK financially. We met on the odd occasion but I could tell that with the breaking marriage he’d lost a degree of enthusiasm for our relationship.” Samuel looked sad as he spoke. “I’m pleased to say our friendship continued. He was always apologetic, that’s probably why he ensured that the police weren’t involved; he probably influenced the other parent too. It was a move engineered partly out of self preservation but also he wanted to protect me.”
“Are you still in contact with him?”
“We chat on the phone occasionally but we seldom see each other. He rarely saw me as Samuel once I’d left the teaching profession. He was kind and compassionate especially when I was looking after mum in Hampsthwaite. He’d a business connection in Harrogate who managed to give me some work; the food van. He’d asked Bruce Jenkins to trial some type of sanitizer that he’d invented. Jenkins was an absolute stickler for hygiene. I believe I told you that when we discussed it last time. That’s why he wouldn’t employ just anybody. Everything had to be done to the letter, floors, and equipment cleaned thoroughly. He made sure we sprayed our hands regularly, even pointed to the sprays when his customers bought food.”
“So Smyth got you the job?”
“In a roundabout way, yes. Initially it was on a trial basis. His wife used to work with him but she developed back problems…it stopped her from performing physical tasks.”
“Did Jenkins know of your past?”
“Yes, we used to discuss it during the quiet times. I don’t think Brewster said anything to him about the school and the accusations made by the boys, but I told him everything. He got really cross. I used to tell him to calm down, that it didn’t matter, it was history. I even suggested that had it not happened, we would never have met. I often used to say that every cloud… when he grew cross. He was very protective.”
“I’m sorry to be personal but how close was your relationship with Bruce Jenkins?
“His wife wasn’t very, what shall we say, accommodating what with her bad back. Let’s put it this way, we were kind to each other.” He smiled.
“Sam, I need you.” The voice from upstairs broke the short silence.
“I must pop up and see to her needs, sorry.”
“No, we must go. Thank you for being so frank.”
“I take it we’re not meeting tomorrow now?”
Liz just shook her head. “Maybe in the future.”
***
There were not many in the briefing room as Cyril dropped the file on the table. Owen held the heavily stained mug in front of him with two hands as if he were about to choke the life out of it.
Liz spoke first. “It was bizarre seeing Pamela as Samuel up close and personal, rather unnerving. She, or on this occasion he, was honest, straight and without embarrassment. Admitted to having sexual relations with Smyth senior and Jenkins, the guy for whom she worked because they were kind to her. She can’t be involved as she was serving on the night Tony disappeared…same goes for Jenkins so does that put them out of the frame?”
Cyril looked at Owen who still focussed on the mug. “No, if they were so friendly, one could have covered for the other. Which other van was positioned close to that of Jenkins on the night Tony disappeared?”
Owen didn’t move but contributed to the meeting. “I can still smell the house. It was a Mrs Sonya James. Remember the first words she spoke to me and I quote, We’re buying nowt from the door so ya can bugger off.” Owen pulled a face and lifted his head. “Remember the second thing too.” He turned to look at Liz. “Shit!”
“W
hat have you remembered?” Cyril snapped.
“First thing she said when she opened the door. Do you recall, Liz?”
She pulled a thinker’s expression before putting her hand to her face. She looked at Owen.
“’Jesus, what’s’…’ he didn’t finish the sentence alone, Liz joined in. “’He done now?’ Shit!”
“Who’s he?” Cyril asked eagerly.
“Missed it, Sir. We were too interested in her friends and we were eager to leave before we stuck permanently to the bloody carpet. We don’t know.”
Cyril bubbled inside. Was this the obvious clue that had been staring them in the face?
“Check now who lives in the house and run checks on them all. I’ve arranged to meet Dr Smyth tomorrow afternoon, it’s been cleared with Greater Manchester. I want you to visit Jenkins and ask specifically about Pamela and what his relationship is with Smyth. Anything on the missing child?”
Owen shook his head. “Seven days, Sir, since the jar. So far nothing.”
***
The walk home always allowed Cyril time to clear his head of any professional confusion and now he needed the time; even the light, late September drizzle brought some relief. He mulled over the conversation he’d had with Owen and Liz and couldn’t comprehend how two professionals had missed something so crucial; a basic error that he knew had cost valuable time. He feared that it might have cost much more and that was on him.
He crossed West Park Stray and turned right into The Coach, a favourite local, just round the corner from home. He watched as the glass filled with Saltaire Pride. He made no small talk; he was not in the mood. The barman read his expression perfectly and remained silent. To Cyril, it was the sign of a good pub. Shaking his watch, he checked it against the clock behind the bar; Cyril made a hasty retreat to a quiet corner. He was like a cornered animal licking its wounds. The case tumbled through his mind chronologically. He thought of his bosses words, ‘Tread carefully, you’re only support. No bull, no broken China’. The way he was performing, he’d found no pots to break! How unlucky he now felt to be in full control, in the firing line. He had a review with the CC and his Chief Constable on the 26th but had little concrete evidence to offer only strong possibilities. Everyone believed that according to the way the evidence had been found, that it had been left deliberately, the person committing the crimes was crying out to be caught. Cyril drank the remains of his pint. So why hadn’t he caught them? He scanned a local paper that had been left on a table opposite and noticed the heading, Harrogate Police… He decided to steal his gaze away without reading on, he felt bad enough already.
***
Owen noted that the van was in the same spot on the driveway as when he and Liz had called on their first visit. He noted too that the tyres were rather flat. Looking around, he also noticed that rust marks from the chassis had discoloured the flagged driveway; it had not moved for some time.
As on the previous occasion, Mrs Jenkins came to the door.
“DS Owen, we’ve met before. I came to interview your husband about the missing youth at The Stray Fair. Is Mr Jenkins home?”
She smiled warmly. “Sorry, he’s not. He’s at one of those conventions in Birmingham, catering equipment and the like. I think he’s after changing his trailer for something more modern but he never tells me anything. Work and sleep, work and sleep.”
“Doesn’t use this one?”
“Not for over a year; just sits there blocking the light and spoiling the view! He messes about inside it often enough”
“Can I look inside?”
“No key, won’t let me in, it’s the same with the garage where he keeps his fridges and stores. In reality I’ve enough to do with the house so what he gets up to in there is up to him. He’s very particular, you know. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Thank you, Mrs Jenkins, I would, it’s been a long day.”
“So where does he keep the van he uses now?”
“It’s one of those trailers, they’re more convenient. He stores it in the car park of The Royal Oak, pays mind. When Bruce is working his street licence permits his use of a parking area on the A59, that’s when he’s not doing shows and fairs.”
Owen went into the lounge; the room was tidy and well organised. Mrs Jenkins could be heard in the kitchen. Owen took a moment to look at his prepared questions.
“I believe from Pamela Shepherd that your husband is fastidious with hygiene matters.”
There was a pause and then she came into the lounge carrying a tray.
“I’ve brought some cake, too. Can’t have tea without cake, not in Yorkshire anyhow. Now, what did you ask?”
“Hygiene, Mrs Jenkins.”
“Yes, I’m sure that he has suffered from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, ever since I’ve known him. He’s not in the Howard Hughes league, doesn’t walk on tissues, but he’s pretty bad. I even sprayed my hands after washing them with this new stuff he brought home before I cut the cake so you’ll not catch anything in this house. Sad thing is, I’m getting as bad as him. Beware officer, if you live with someone long enough you turn into them.” For some reason Owen immediately thought of Cyril and felt a shiver. “What do you need to see him about? Can I help at all?”
“Can I see the stuff you put on your hands, please?”
She stood and moved into the kitchen, returning with a black hand-pump spray bottle. “There’s no label, that’s how it comes.”
Owen sprayed some on his hands before rubbing them together. “I can eat this lovely cake now,” he said and smiled. “I couldn’t keep this, could I? My mum said that cheek would get me everywhere.”
“No trouble, he’s got enough to sink a ship.”
Owen ate the cake passing on a number of compliments. Had Cyril been there he would have squirmed at his obsequiousness but the lady of the house absorbed compliments as if they were rare in her world.
“What do you know about Pamela Shepherd?”
“Lovely lady, clean and always on time. Has helped Bruce often since I did my back. He couldn’t manage without her to be honest with you.”
“Has he ever talked about her past, what she did before she helped Bruce?”
“Doesn’t tend to talk about work much but he has told me that she’s had it rough and that some people have treated her very badly in the past but he hasn’t gone into detail. Nothing to do with me, I suppose. More tea?”
“Does he have anyone else help out if Pamela is busy?”
“Occasionally. He’s mentioned a Samuel but I’ve never met him. Strangely, he lives in Hampsthwaite too.”
“When are you expecting him home, Mrs Jenkins?” Owen licked his finger and dabbed up the crumbs from his plate.
“Should be back Thursday, hopefully having not spent a small fortune. To be honest, he makes a good living and as he says, he needs to keep ahead of the opposition.”
Owen thought of Sonya James. “Not if Sonya James is the competition he doesn’t.”
“You’ve met the lovely Sonya have you officer. She’s had the sharp edge of my tongue on many occasion, I’ll tell you. Filthy woman and her boyfriend is no better.”
Owen slipped into his innocent mode. “Who’s he then. I’ve met her and for your information only, I’ve stuck to her hall carpet - but unfortunately he wasn’t home. Is he the only other person in the house?”
“Bloody herd of them, excuse my French. All her kids by different men, trollop! Thought you’d be familiar with ‘em all. Tried to trap Bruce, she did, silly man, he nearly fell for her mischievous charms…all short skirt and sex, that’s her. Can’t keep sex out of the bedroom!”
Owen breathed in. When she was in full sail Mrs Jenkins certainly grew in stature. She reminded him of a robin, small but as bold as brass.
“So who’s the boyfriend now?”
“Someone not from the housing estate, farmer, I heard. She’ll probably tell you he doesn’t live there to protect whatever benefits she probably claims.”
Owen stood and moved towards the door.
“Officer, one more thing. I don’t know how to say this but since my back injury I’ve not been, let’s put it sensitively, dutiful as a wife and I know that Pamela and Bruce enjoy each other’s company occasionally. That’s all right by me; in fact it takes away a degree of pressure. So you see, there’s nothing for him to hide. Feel better for telling someone that. Thank you.”
She opened the door and Owen left. Within three minutes she removed a mobile phone from a cupboard and dialled, by which time her demeanour had changed considerably. After the call, she removed the sim card from the phone before moving into the kitchen.
***
Liz was still sitting at the computer when she really should have been home. There was no record of a male living at the address for Sonya James, only Sonya and four kids, all girls varying in age from six to sixteen. The local Neighbourhood Support Team had visited on more occasions than was healthy and Social Services had been involved with parenting skill issues identified by the schools. A dysfunctional family if ever there was. She checked the file and finally discovered the name of a male who had been in the house on one of the visits. She blinked as she read it. Jason Gregson. “Like bees to bloody honey,” she said out loud.
Chapter Twenty One
Cyril stood looking at the jar containing the anatomical specimen. He tilted his head to one side and spread his fingers to ascertain the object’s length.
“Feeling inadequate Cyril?” Julie said with a giggle.
Cyril blushed. “Are you sure it’s from a human?”
“One day I’ll explain why it looks longer that it should but not today and only when I know your male ego is not so vulnerable! Good of Owen to drop this in late last night, your Forensics’ bill is growing longer than our friend there.” She turned to look at the jar and laughed. “I also don’t like getting into work at,” she checked her watch, “seven in the morning. Forensics has done the tests on the Hypochlorous Acid found on the boy’s body and compared it with the product here which we presume is the patented cleanser produced by Dr Smyth. They are identical. You might like to have someone look at his client list but I also suggest you take a look at his friends and those working on it’s production. It goes without saying that when something is new to the market samples are often distributed and believe me, you wouldn’t need much to do a thorough cleanse of a corpse.”
Flesh Evidence: a heart-stopping crime thriller Page 15