by Helen Phifer
‘Your mum, dad and Beatrix—’ His voice broke and he couldn’t speak.
Bronte just stared at him waiting for him to finish.
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘No, what are you sorry for?’
‘I’m sorry to tell you that they’re all dead.’
The hoarse scream filled the room and spilled out into the rest of the unit. She began to try to get out of bed. The sister and two nurses came running over and Ben let go of her hand. A nurse pushed him out of the way, bending down to hold the hysterical girl. Turning her head, she mouthed ‘get out’. Amy grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room. He let her drag him out, craning his neck around to see if Bronte was okay.
Once they were back inside the car, he looked at Amy. ‘That was horrendous.’
‘I thought you did okay, she had to know. Sooner or later someone was going to have to tell her; at least the nursing staff can blame you and Bronte won’t hate them for it.’
‘Glad to be of service. Seriously, Amy, I can’t even begin to imagine what she’s going through.’
‘It’s done.’
‘Yeah, you know what, sometimes this job sucks big time. Plus, all we know is that Barker was sleeping with and visiting Olivia a lot when her dad wasn’t around. I hope Taskforce have found some evidence at his house. I want to watch him squirm his way out of this one.’
They drove back in silence, Ben lost in a world of grief for Bronte Potter and her family.
Fifty
Morgan arrived at the Cumbrian News office. There was a big CLOSED sign taped to the front window. The scene had been released late last night after Claire Williams, the murder investigation team’s DCI, had visited and cleared it. She hoped to God that the specialist cleaning firm had been in first thing this morning to clean it up; surely they wouldn’t have left that blood everywhere. It was a business. Her stomach lurched just thinking about the smell. She was going to find out sooner or later. She wanted to help Ben and by speaking to the staff here, she thought she might find out if there was a link between Stone and Barker.
Knocking on the door, her stomach felt like it did whenever she went on a boat. She hated sailing and even on bigger boats she still got seasick. She knocked harder; eventually the sound of footsteps could be heard on the tiled floor.
The door opened a tiny bit.
‘We’re closed, can’t you read the sign?’
‘Police, I need to speak to you.’
The door opened wide enough for her to squeeze through. She stepped in, relieved to see a sparkling clean floor and walls. The only smell which hit her nostrils was that of fresh paint.
‘Mind that wall, it’s still wet.’
She followed the older woman down the hall to an office. ‘Take a seat. I’m Lana Wallis.’
Morgan did, and the woman sat behind the desk. ‘What do you need to know?’
She didn’t ask to see Morgan’s credentials, which surprised her, but she looked as if she’d been in the job a long time, so could probably tell a copper from a one-mile radius. It was amazing just how many people could.
‘I’m sorry for your loss. I need some background information about Jamie to help with the investigation.’
‘It’s sad, but he’s not my loss. Truth be told he wasn’t very well liked by anyone.’
‘Oh.’ Morgan was taken aback by her honesty; people normally loved to play grieving friends, lapping up the sympathy when someone died so brutally or unexpectedly.
‘That sounds awful of me, I know it does. I’m not callous, but he didn’t really care much about anyone here or his employees. He only cared about himself.’
‘I take it he had a few run-ins with people then. Can you give me a list of them?’
She laughed. ‘How long have you got, because it could take some time and that’s only the ones I know about.’
‘How about the most recent or anyone he had a particularly nasty fall-out with.’
‘Let me see, he upset most of the town council. I know he had a particular dislike towards the mayor and had a fair few disagreements with him.’
‘Gregory Barker?’
She nodded.
‘What sort of disagreements?’
‘I think Jamie was secretly jealous of Greg. God knows why, he’s an arsehole as well. But the pair of them had a mutual dislike of each other. I believe they had a bit of a falling out at the town meeting a couple of nights ago.’
‘Were you there? Did you see it?’
‘No, my partner, Jackie, is a parish councillor and attends meetings. She told me. I have no idea why she keeps going to them, but she said she likes to give back to the community and they’re entertaining.’ She wrote a number on a Post-it and tore it off, passing it to Morgan. ‘You can give her a call any time after five; she’s also a teacher so is home most evenings if there’s no afterschool clubs or staff meetings.’
‘Thank you. Did you know about the family who were murdered at the same house at Easdale Road?’
‘I didn’t, not until Jamie mentioned it a couple of days ago. A bit weird that, isn’t it? Imagine buying a house where a whole family were murdered and then it happening to you. God knows what they’ll do with the place, but I can’t see it being a selling point, can you? They’ll probably do ghost hunts in it and sell tickets to spend a night there.’
‘Did Jamie know a lot about the O’Briens? Is he, sorry, was he old enough to remember?’
‘No, he’s only in his late thirties. He said he was digging the old reports out, though he did mention that Greg knew both families. I told him that didn’t mean much. I mean Greg was born around here and lived here his entire life. That’s what happens. The ones who move away are lucky. Everyone else knows everybody else’s business, there’s no keeping secrets.’
‘Did you know the Potters?’
‘Not really, they’ve only been here a year or so. They’re not from around here, so still a bit of a mystery to the locals, even more so now they’re dead. How’s the girl who survived?’
‘Still hanging on. Did you ever hear any rumours of Greg and Olivia Potter having an affair?’
‘Yes and no, I heard it in the post office. You wouldn’t believe how much gossiping goes on in there. If you think hairdressers are bad you should stand in the queue in there for twenty minutes. I’m not one for listening to gossip, though I should because it’s my job as a reporter. But there’s one thing I hate more than anything and that’s idle gossip.’
‘Thank you, do you think I could take a look at the reports about the O’Brien murders? This isn’t public knowledge, but I’m looking into them.’
‘You could have them by all means, only I couldn’t find them anywhere. I searched the records room where all the old papers are kept. Someone has been in there and been rooting around because the boxes are all over the place. But they’re not here. I’ve checked all the desks including Jamie’s and there’s no sign of them. Did you check his car? Maybe they’re inside it. I think he came back to find them, because he left before I did that day. He must have come back later on for them. Do you think that’s why he was killed, because there was something in those reports the killer didn’t want him to see?’
Morgan nodded. ‘That would seem like a good enough motive. Please, can I ask this is between us for the time being.’
‘Sure, if you need anything else give me a ring. I can’t see this shithole being open much longer. We’ve been running by the seat of our pants for years. Jamie was the one who brought in the advertising and revenue. I suppose it was his passion. I lost my passion for this a long time ago.’
Morgan stood up and held out her hand. ‘Thank you, Lana, you’ve been very helpful. I can see myself out.’
Morgan walked down the hall. It was hard to believe there had been a bloody, brutal murder in here a couple of days ago. Letting herself out, she made sure the door closed behind her and couldn’t be opened again. Lana was alone in there and it would be awful if something happened
to her as well. Although she had a feeling that Gregory Barker was the key to this whole thing: if he’d murdered the O’Briens, he wouldn’t have wanted that dredging up by Jamie Stone.
Back at the station, she sat in the almost empty car park trying to gather her thoughts. She wondered how Ben and Amy were getting on with Bronte. It still hurt that she hadn’t been asked to join them, but she told herself to stop acting like a spoiled child. Did she want to be there when they broke the news to the girl that her entire family were now dead? Not really; she didn’t wish that on anyone. She wrote a brief draft of her conversation with Lana on the board, then phoned Ben.
Amy answered.
‘He’s driving. I’ll put you on speaker.’
‘I’ve been to speak to staff at the Cumbrian News. Well, one staff member, Lana Wallis; we had quite an interesting conversation. She said she’d heard rumours of an affair between Olivia and Greg Barker. Also said that Stone and Barker disliked each other. She thinks Stone had been digging into the old newspaper reports of the O’Brien murders. When she went to look for them, though, they were missing and she thinks that’s why he came back that night. The killer must have known Stone was looking into it and taken them with him, and there’s only one person who wouldn’t want them dredging up.’
‘Barker. That’s great, thanks. So, if Taskforce turn up some newspaper clippings at Barker’s house that would be the miracle we need. I’ll get on to them now and see what they’re up to.’
Morgan was almost through the back doors when she saw the car drive through the secure gates with Amy and Ben. She waited for them and felt bad for him; his face looked grey. No need to ask how it went: she could tell by the grim expression.
They trailed into the office one after the other to see an even grimmer-faced DCI waiting for them.
‘What the hell is going on, Ben? We can’t keep Barker much longer unless you get an extension. Have you got enough for an extension?’
‘You saw the CCTV, he was clearly involved with Olivia Potter.’
‘Yes, I did and thanks to you I’ll see that for the rest of my life. It’s ingrained in my memories. Have we got anything that’s rock-solid evidence and not circumstantial or pornographic?’
Ben’s phone rang. ‘You’ve checked everything, the car, the attic?’ There was a slight pause. He ran his hand across the stubble on his face, something Morgan noticed he did when he was stressed. It couldn’t be good news. ‘That’s a shame. Thanks for trying.’
He ended the call and looked at Tom. ‘Nothing, house and car were clean.’
‘Then we have to bail him, you know the score.’
‘Do you want me to do it?’
Tom shook his head. ‘No, he’s going to be causing enough trouble for us as it is. You need to keep away from him. For the foreseeable future.’
Ben closed his eyes and Morgan wondered if he was counting to ten.
Tom left them to it.
Amy patted his arm.
‘We tried, boss, we’ll nail him. It’s just a matter of time. He knows we’re onto him, but he’s bound to slip up.’
In that small gesture of friendship between them Morgan realised how much she liked this team. She was glad Ben had taken a chance and let her come up here, even if was by default. Working alongside them, she knew she could make a difference.
‘Coffee?’
They both nodded.
She left them and decided this called for proper coffee and cake. A quick walk to the coffee shop on the high street would clear her mind and give them a chance to clear theirs.
Fifty-One
As she walked back into the station with the coffees, Barker was being escorted out of the side door. He saw her and smiled, nodding his head. The smile didn’t reach his glaring eyes and she knew he was trying to intimidate her. Morgan couldn’t help herself.
‘Have a lovely evening, Greg.’
She hurried inside; two could play that game. He didn’t scare her, despite Ben’s warnings. She took the coffees upstairs to where Ben was in his office watching Barker get into his car, ready to drive away.
‘Is he okay?’
Amy nodded. ‘Yeah, he will be.’ She opened the paper bags containing cake and whistled. ‘He will be after one of those chocolate brownies anyway.’ She banged on his window, waving the cake at him. He gave her a thumbs up but didn’t come out straight away.
‘What will happen now?’
‘He’s waiting for the go-ahead to put a surveillance team in place, then there will be teams of two watching the prick until he does something, and we can bring him back in. They still haven’t located Harrison either.’
‘It’s not like on the television, is it?’
Amy spat crumbs of brownie all over herself, almost choking on the laughter which erupted.
‘No, it definitely is not. We don’t manage to solve the crimes in an hour.’
‘That’s not what I meant, it just seems so effortless and all the clues fall into place.’
‘Sometimes they do, if you get someone who has committed a crime on the spur of the moment and not planned it, then yes, they tend to leave lots of forensics behind. It’s much easier to catch those kinds of criminals. These killings have been well thought out, though, which makes it difficult but not impossible.’ Amy looked towards Ben’s office and sighed gently. ‘He’s a big softie under that really rough exterior. He’s had an extremely shitty day. It was awful at the hospital and now this. I worry about him, but don’t tell him that.’
Morgan laughed. ‘I won’t, I feel bad for him. Do you think he’ll be all right?’
Neither of them realised Ben had come out of his office. He picked up a coffee and a slice of cake.
‘Who?’
‘The guy I was talking to earlier.’
Ben shrugged. ‘No, idea. Thanks, this is really good.’
She watched as he demolished it in three bites.
‘God you’re a pig.’ Amy was watching him with a look of horror on her face. ‘Did you even taste that?’
Just like that the mood was lifted. He gave her the finger and washed down his cake with a huge mouthful of coffee.
‘Let’s call it a day, guys, there’s nothing we can do at the moment. The powers that be up at headquarters are all arguing about putting a surveillance team on Barker. You know what this place is like, he’ll end up killing another three people before they come to an agreement. It’s been a long, crappy day. Thank you both for everything.’
‘What, so we’re dismissed?’
He nodded at Amy, who whooped.
‘Get in, I’m going to the pub to meet Jack. Anyone coming?’
‘No, thanks. I’m going home to sleep.’
Morgan declined. Realising Ben would need a lift, she waited for him.
‘I’ll drop you off.’
‘Thank you, I forgot I didn’t have a car.’
Amy was out of the door before he changed his mind.
Ben grabbed some files off his desk, stuffing them into a bag.
On the drive home, Morgan wanted to ask him if he was okay, as he didn’t look particularly like he was. As the car idled outside his house and he opened the door, she plucked up the courage.
‘Ben are you going to be all right?’
He turned to look at her. ‘I am, thank you. You don’t need to worry or come back later and smash another window. If you have to come back, I’ll let you in, it’s less messy.’
She smiled. ‘I, well. If you need to talk you can ring me anytime.’
‘Thank you.’
He turned away, but not before she saw the tears glistening in his eyes and it made her want to get out of the car and hug him. She didn’t, in case he thought she was going a bit too far; instead she waved at him and drove away wishing she wasn’t going back to her empty flat.
Deciding there was no way she was cooking, she drove to the Oriental Jade for a takeaway. Sitting in the window flipping through the pages of the latest and possibly last edit
ion of the Cumbrian News, she saw a familiar figure walk past. She could tell by the walk that it was Greg Barker; he had his head bent, a woollen beanie, and a scarf wrapped around his face. She dropped the paper, and opened the door.
‘I’ll come back soon,’ she said to the puzzled girl behind the counter.
Stepping out into the dark, she kept her distance but followed him. She didn’t take him for the kind of guy who went out for late-night walks. He was heading in the direction of the Honey Pot council estate. Her imagination was working overtime; didn’t Harrison Wright live around here? What if the two of them had done it together? Ben would be furious to know they could have had him under surveillance and done this properly.
She took out her phone ready to film him if he went into someone’s house. She couldn’t call the police because technically she shouldn’t be following him. He’d be shouting out that it was a free country and she was breaching his civil rights; but the feeling inside her gut told her he was up to no good.
He didn’t go to any houses; instead he ducked into the deserted circular cul-de-sac which housed garages and lock-ups. She didn’t dare to follow him inside. He would see her – it was too risky. Instead she zoomed in and tried to take some photos to show to Ben. The sound of a garage door being opened echoed around the peaceful street and she turned back. It could wait until tomorrow; she’d show Ben the footage. He could get a search team, and maybe they’d find something inside. Hurrying back the way she’d come, an eerie feeling she was being watched made her walk faster back to the Chinese.
Grabbing her takeaway, she drove the short distance home. The food smelt good and she realised how hungry she was. She went inside, her mind busy with the different scenarios she was running through her head about what was inside the lock-up Barker had gone into.
Fifty-Two
Morgan’s eyes opened like clockwork. She realised she’d fallen asleep on the chair and was shivering. It was cold, the heating had gone off and she had no duvet or pillow. Getting up, she went into the bedroom and climbed into bed, under her duvet, until she felt the warmth flowing through her body. She tried to go back to sleep, was desperate to, but her mind wouldn’t let her. At least she hadn’t had any bad dreams. Her mind wandered to the woman who lived in the cottage in the woods, trying to remember her name. Ettie, that was it, she had seemed nice. Reminded her of her mum. She’d quite happily live in that little house. Tending the garden and brewing all sorts of teas. She might ask the landlord if she could plant a little herb garden around the back. She’d like to go and speak to her again, not for work but on a personal level. She thought about Ben’s overgrown, messy garden. That would be the perfect space to plant flowers, herbs and vegetables. He didn’t appreciate how lucky he was to live in that huge house. Then again it was probably more like a mausoleum to him, full of sad memories. There must have been good times, though; you don’t stay married to someone for that long and not have happy memories.